#fic: sun tea in the summer

[cademygod]

chapter eleven is up!

one year and three days later... she's alive. she being my multi-chapter rosekiller fic, 'sun tea in the summer', of course

this chapter was supposed to be the last, but due to the length of it i decided to split it into two. that being said, chapter twelve/seventeen part two will be up asap!

here's a sneak peek

Regulus pulled himself up to lean back on his elbows. “So. Rosier.”  “What?” Evan asked, like an idiot.  “Is there anything you’d like to say? Before I say it?”  “No…?” Evan spoke tentatively, as though he thought he was going to get in trouble. All Regulus did was hum, grabbing his drink and taking a swig. His hair was curlier from the salt water and, despite his solid attempts, the sunglasses as a headband moment wasn’t working. He pulled the sunglasses down to sit on the nose of his bridge, obscuring his always all-knowing gaze. “Okay, well, if you insist.”  “I’m not insisting.”  “I’m insisting, and you’re an idiot, so I’m going to say you’re insisting.”  “That isn’t how it works.”

click here to read the chapter :)

[rafeskiss]

juno ! ᥫ᭡

pairing: rafe cameron x fem! reader

word count: 980

summary: boat days with rafey make you so fucking horny<333 based on the song ‘juno’ by sabrina carpenter

warnings: no actual smut, use of y/n, mentions of pregnancy, alcohol, probably more i dont fucking know

authors note: IM BAAAACK! bringing back the short n’ sweet inspired rafe fics

boat days with rafe were your favorite days. you didn’t have to be sexual with rafe to have fun together, and you guys had your own way of showing appreciation— which, of course, included sex some days, but you also just got each other.

your love for each other was showcased best on the druthers on hot and sticky summer afternoons. you’d be tanning and feel a lack of warmth for a second, opening your eyes to see rafe towering over you, blocking the sun. a fruity seltzer in his hand, he’d hand it to you and you’d continue tanning. you didn’t ever have to tell him what you were thinking, he just gets it.

or he’d let you apply sunscreen on him— this was a rarity. he claimed he didn’t care if he got burnt or not, and you’d always reply with something along the lines of ‘you will care when you get skin cancer in 20 years!’ so you’d stand on your tippy toes, rubbing the white substance on his face, chest, back, arms, and legs until you saw fit. this was also a perfect excuse to feel him up. you hated his father, ward, for giving him life-long daddy issues but this was one of the only times you’d thank him. God bless his dad’s genetics, because rafe cameron is one sight to see and feel under the north carolina heat. beads of sweat dotting his face and chest, small freckles appearing on his nose and how gorgeous he looked driving the boat.

today was one of those days; you in a tiny pink bikini and rafe looking particularly fuckable edible hot pretty. you watched as he steered the boat towards wherever the hell he was taking you, his grip on the steering wheel showing off his toned, muscular arms. you just about melted in your sun chair rafe layed out for you.

it was days like this where you seemed to be so in love you’d do just about anything for him. rafe was too busy steering the boat, leaving you alone in your thoughts as you soaked up the vitamin d. you often thought about your future with rafe, and rafe doesn’t talk about the future rarely ever, but you knew he’d want your touch for life. he hasn’t and probably won’t ever come out and directly say he wants to spend forever with you, but his words always allude to it.

you never take the things he says during sex seriously; he’s always grunting about putting a baby in you or telling you to never ever leave him— you wouldn’t dare— but you wonder if he really truly means it. however, this doesn’t stop you from hinting at the fact you would like this all to become a reality. he’d be picking you up to go to dinner and you’d do a little twirl, showing off your dress. he’d tell you you look great, just like always, and you’d be like ‘well, there’s actually one thing missing…’ rafe would grumble something like ‘fuck are you talkin’ bout, kid? you’re fully dressed.’ and you’d stick your left hand out to him, showing him your naked ring finger. ‘missing a rock right there.’ and he’d roll his eyes and tell you to get in the damn truck.

you hopped off the tanning chair and found your way to a mini fridge that’s always stocked with various drinks. you opted for a twisted tea and you grabbed rafe a beer. you giddily walked to find rafe who was standing by the steering wheel, one hand on it and the other glancing down at his phone.

“here ya go,” you smiled and handed him the glass bottle.

“thanks, baby.” he said while placing a kiss to your temple, turning his phone off.

you looked at his hands on the steering wheel, noticing the lack of a wedding ring on his hand. you frown, “looks so boring right here, right?” you look up at him, your finger pointing to his ring finger.

“can you just wait?” he scolded.

“i just think this day would be even more perfect with a mini us running around!” you declared, looking around the boat imagining a tiny rafe or a tiny you waddling all over.

he rolled his eyes and continued steering the boat.

“like, one of me is cute but two though?”

rafe laughed, “are you ovulating or something? holy shit,”

you smiled and planted a kiss on his cheek, “can’t help it.”

“jus’… gimme time, baby.” he muttered before taking a sip of his beer.

so maybe having a baby at 19 wasn’t the best idea. but there were far worse things you could be doing with your life! rafe has enough money to support you and the baby until the end of time, including your retail therapy and regular therapy, so what is so wrong with that?

“give me one good reason why we can’t have a baby right now.” you said, crossing your arms which only made rafe take this conversation less serious because his eyes were immediately drawn to your tits.

rafe smirked, “shit, i dunno. i will say, your tits would be massive with a little baby in you.”

you gasped, “so you do wanna have a baby!”

“never said that.” he sniffed.

rolling your eyes you said, “whatever. god forbid i want a future with you!” you stormed off leaving rafe behind you.

of course, rafe didn’t want to hurt your feelings so he apologized very thoroughly later. he made sure to tell you that he did want a future with you, but he wants you to enjoy your young adulthood before potentially wrecking your life and freedom by bringing a baby into the world. in response to this, you stuck your tongue out at him.

“see, who needs a fucking baby when we got you around?” he said teasingly.

TAGLIST (reply to my tag list post to be added)

@xcinnamonmalfoyx @neediestpuppy @ethanthequeefqueen @maybankslover @pankowblues @drewsphswife @wearemadeofstardust0

[nana-au]

𝐈 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄...

 𝜗𝜚 Satoru Gojo Prince AU ♡ part one

 𝜗𝜚 Summary: being raised as satoru's servant while also being his best friend has caused some trouble for the two of you. upon the arrival of satoru's first courting season, it becomes obvious he sees you as more than just a servant. more than just a friend. it becomes your responsibility to ensure satoru loses his feelings for you. or else yours and your family's entire livelihood is at stake. based off of this drabble

𝜗𝜚 Warnings: forbidden love, unspoken feelings, angst, rumors spread about reader, underlying anxiety (let me know if i missed any)

 𝜗𝜚 wc: 3,050

𝜗𝜚 an: this fic is based off of the 19th century, but is not entirely accurate. sorry if that is something that may bother you!

┊p1┊𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨��𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠... p2┊

It’s an hour after dawn when you arrive to wake up Satoru. Upon opening the door to his chambers, you see him wrapped up in a thin sheet, tufts of white hair poking out underneath it. The rest of his blankets and comforter are in a heap on the floor; the Prince favoring the light fabric during the summer months. You walk across his room to the large window overlooking the gardens, opening the curtains to let the bright sun assist you in waking him. You turn to him, expecting a groan from the sudden change of lighting, but he lays still. “Satoruuuuu,” you call sweetly to him and he still doesn’t stir. Once you reach his bed and start peeling away the single layer off his body to expose his bare chest, it is then he begins to awaken. “It’s time to break your fast, Satoru,” you hum to him. He scratches his chest, his nails dragging across the milky skin that you try your hardest not to look at for too long before turning his head into his pillow.

A muffled, “Not yet…” can barely be heard. You giggle at him, trying to take the pillow out from under his head. 

“You were supposed to be awake almost an hour ago, Satoru,” you tell him, finally freeing the pillow before using it to hit him. “Wake up Satoru, I’m being serious,” you tell him sternly, earning a smirk from the white haired Prince. 

“Five more minutes,” his hand goes to cover his eyes, attempting to return to the slowed natured breathing of sleep. 

“Absolutely not!” you climb into the bed with him, the realization of how inappropriate it is for you to join the Prince in bed crosses your mind as you try to peel his hands off his face. Your strength is no match for him as he simply turns his back to you and grabs a new pillow to rest his head under. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you watch him smugly lay there, knowing you couldn’t physically get him out of bed. You sigh, mumbling to yourself about how he might not find his favorite chocolate biscuits on his tray during tea time for a while when he shoots up in bed. Suddenly ready to take on his day. “I’ll see you at breakfast, Satoru,” you chuckle to him, and he shoots you a lazy smile. His eyes are a little puffy from sleep and his plump lips are chapped from a night with no water. His chest is a little red from where he scratched it, and you forbid yourself from following the direction of the scratches down to his taut stomach. The door of his bedroom closes behind you and you make your way to one of the private dining rooms. 

𝜗𝜚

The walk to the dining room is long and you are unable to keep your busy mind on track. For a while now your relationship with Satoru has caused conflicting feelings for you. Being the one to see him sleep so peacefully, being the one to wake him up - to see him adjust to the morning light, barely there but still smiling up at you…

Being the one who sees him to bed at night, per his request. He has you sit in his bed with him, something neither of you could ever tell someone else because of the implications that come with that action. But all he has you do is reminisce on simpler times with him. How catching the frogs in the garden was once the hardest thing he had to do in his day and that he missed horseback riding with you, begging you to join him again. It’s hard to lie when his blue eyes look up at you through his white lashes, but you continue to tell him you just grew past enjoying that. Choosing to protect him from the current reality you struggled with. His lip always curled into a little pout at the end of your conversations, and you would tuck the blankets into his sides and wish him a good night.

Everything between you two felt so wrong because the things that you both were forbidden to do felt so right. It was really no mystery to you, and as you both grew older and Satoru grew bolder, it wasn’t a mystery to anyone else either: Satoru felt more than just friendship for you. You think that is what you loved most about him. The fact he could never hide his feelings - lacking the ability to pretend to feel or be anything that he wasn’t. But all though you loved it,  it was causing a lot of problems for you. You were made aware of the King and Queen’s feelings on you and him being so close. They were unimpressed, but willing to ignore it as long as you focused on your duties and kept the Prince focused on his. But you and everyone around you knew the ice you were treading on was rapidly thinning. 

As you make your way closer to the dining room you shut away your feelings, the pressure of your role in his life becoming more apparent each day - unable to avoid the gossip among other servants and your parents' constant warning that the path you were walking would lead to a place you would regret finding. 

𝜗𝜚

Breakfast with Satoru went as it always went. He played around with his food while you walked him through the tasks he was expected to do for the day. 

“The Queen set up another dining etiquette lesson which you will attend soon after your meal,” you tell him and he scoffs, elbows digging into the table and the egg on his plate being flung onto the oak table. You grimace and continue, “You also have a lesson to brush you up on the politics of surrounding nations,” he responds by slurping his water loudly, piercing blue eyes staring at you with a bored expression. Clearing your throat you remind him he also has fencing lessons and two hours of horseback riding to look forward to and he finally flashes you his award winning smile. 

“Now you’re saying what I wanted to hear,” he still has his eyes on you, looking at you with adoration and something else you couldn’t place. You squirmed under his watchful eyes, muttering about how he needs to finish breakfast and get cleaned up for the day. 

𝜗𝜚

While Satoru sits through his lessons, you busy yourself in the laundry room, cleaning his sheets so that they are ready by the time he enters his chambers for the night. The repetitive motion of scrubbing the wet laundry against itself to work up any dirt did little to distract you from the whispers of other servants who were obviously talking about you. You wanted badly to scoff and tell them to find some new drama to busy their mouths with - but you knew it would do nothing but fuel the gossip so you steeled your face and kept focused on your tasks. It was obviously no secret to anybody in the Gojo estate that you two were closer than what was allowed. You could hardly even blame them for finding such enjoyment from the drama that was unraveling slowly but surely. Being a servant was hardly an entertaining job. You originally found yourself lucky you had Satoru to keep you entertained - but that was quickly biting you in the behind. 

All though everyone else around you couldn’t stop talking about it; Satoru and you never uttered a word about the subject of their rumors. It left a sour taste on your tongue to imagine actually acknowledging out loud that you were aware of what was transpiring, and Satoru couldn’t care less what anyone had to say about him and you. It was better left unsaid between the both of you, you thought to yourself. 

𝜗𝜚

Once laundry was done you made your way out into the field where Satoru was practicing fencing with his teacher. You balanced a full cup of water in your hand as you made your way closer and closer to the two men taking jabs at each other, being careful not to spill a drop. The sun beat down on you and the birds chirped between the sounds of their swords thwacking against each other’s. You waited patiently for them to finish their sparring. You were in awe each time you saw Satoru do something that wasn’t entirely included in his princely responsibilities. Sure, fencing was something all Princes were taught to do; but it was far from a requirement to rule an entire nation of people. He came alive when it was just him and the outdoors. Away from the stuffy classrooms and the boring talk of what was expected of him and where his place was in the world. He didn’t regard being a Prince as a privilege but as a tedious title thrown onto him because of who he was born to. Satoru despised his role in the world, but having activities to keep his mind engaged temporarily lessened his growing anger as his responsibilities piled on his shoulders. He wondered if Atlas ever considered giving up and letting the heavens squash him dead. 

The tip of his blade touches his teacher’s chest, scoring his final point and causing his lips to turn into a wide smile. He’s breathless when he notices you, walking up with the confidence of a God before peeling his mask off his head. He’s sweaty and breathless, leaning in close to your face. You can feel the heat radiating off his body from how close he managed to get, a bead of sweat dripping from his hairline as he takes the cup from you. “Thank you,” he manages to tell you between heaving breaths. You can’t fight the quiver it causes you. 

He downs the cup, the remnants dripping out from the corner of his mouth and sliding down his defined jaw and trailing down his neck - making it impossible to avoid the bobbing of his throat with each gulp he takes. Your blush is red hot, suddenly finding the blades of grass incredibly interesting until he speaks up. 

“Walk me to the stables?”

𝜗𝜚

As you escort him to the stables your father is in charge of, your hands brush against each other while you match each other’s steps. You're both stuck in comfortable silence, listening to the soft trickling of a far away fountain and watching as two butterflies race in front of each other. Their wings flutter as they surround each other, colliding with one another as they circle around the other, before taking off into the greenery ahead. You look up upon feeling a pair of eyes on yours - Satoru smiles once your eyes reach his. Your face flushes only causing him to grin at you as you desperately try to find an interesting topic to talk about. “H-how were your lessons?” you inquire. 

His head shakes at you, laughing to himself before he answers you, “fine”. The answer is dull and void of any details but you struggle to find the correct words to pry. Your fingers bump into his again and you bring your hand up to cough into it. You don’t have to look at Satoru to know he is smiling at you like he always does when you’re flustered. Typically you would call him out for it, and he would flirtatiously respond back that he just can’t help it. But you don’t call him out and he doesn’t respond back. If he was aware of the conflict in your features he doesn’t mention it. You walk in silence again until the stables come into view.

𝜗𝜚

You greet your father upon entering the large open doors where he is quick to bow. “Prince Gojo, good afternoon,” Satoru nods in acknowledgement and the other stablehands begin to saddle up his favorite horse. He watches as your father says hello to you, his eyes wary noticing you with the Prince. It was your job as his personal servant to follow him around of course, but tensions had been high recently. Any time the two of you were alone was a cause of concern in his book. “Daughter,” he smiles at you, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. Your father was a burly man from years of being in charge of the stables and taking care of the horses. His beard was unkempt and his face was a little dirty, but with one look at him there was no denying he was your father. You two shared the same eye and hair color, you both thought long and hard before you spoke, and you both were prone to nervous habits like biting your nails. Satoru wondered what it would be like to have a parent worth inheriting from. 

The stablehands brought his horse out, the white stallion whinnying upon seeing the Prince. Satoru greets him warmly, brushing his hands across its muzzle, “Hey boy,” he calls to him sweetly, continuing to run his hand across its back as he prepares himself to jump into the saddle. He pauses though, eyes deep in thought and you almost ask him what's wrong before he speaks up. “Get her a horse, please,” he tells one of the men who brought out his horse and you instantly perk up. 

“Prince Gojo,” you address him formally in front of your father, “I really must get back to prepare for dinner.”

“As your Prince,” he says, making it a point to emphasize the label he hates you using, “I’m asking you to ride with me,” he turns to direct the stablehands, “Saddle up a horse quickly please.” Your father is anything but impressed, but he nods when his staff check with him for permission. It’s subtle and no one would ever admit to disobeying the Prince, but they felt the need to check for his reassurance. He didn’t just demand respect, your father earned it. 

You fiddle with your fingers, mumbling about how it really wasn’t a good idea but once Satoru got started on something he wouldn’t stop until it happened. You sigh as they bring out a stunning black mare, saddled up and ready for you to ride. Satoru notices your hesitation to pull yourself up, making his way over to you and grabbing your hips abruptly. His slender fingers squeeze the flowy fabric of your uniform tight against your sides before lifting you up into the saddle. He patted your mare once you got situated and made his way back into his own saddle, completely unaware of how dead silent the stables became. Your father was shaking his head and the other men were rendered speechless watching you follow the Prince out into the open fields. 

𝜗𝜚

Riding with Satoru was a different kind of freedom. The feeling of the wind flowing through your hair, the sound of boisterous laughter as Satoru led you into his favorite part of the forest; dodging twigs that stuck out from the trees as you raced after him. Your mare’s hooves thundered down on the forest floor, the steady thump thump thump causing your heart to beat along with its rhythm. “I thought you said you didn’t like riding anymore?” he teased you as your melodious laughter filled the open air. He kept looking back at you, trusting his horse to guide him safely while he couldn’t help but watch you and the unfiltered joy you let out, causing his heart to flutter and mouth to dry. Satoru wasn’t one to reflect too hard on his emotions - recognizing it would drive him mad to ponder on complicated things like his feelings. But watching you was different. He didn’t feel the need to label what he felt. He just allowed himself to feel.

Because with you it was easy… or hard. Easy because his feelings were so featherlight; devoid of their usual drag against his heavy heart. But hard because he could feel you slowly pulling away from him.

You couldn’t stop the buzzing of your body from how good the adrenaline rush felt. How good it felt to be away from other’s wandering eyes - waiting for you to make a mistake you nor your family could come back from. It was bliss. Spending time with Satoru was bliss. 

𝜗𝜚

The two of you had stopped in a grassy knoll upon a hill farther up the Gojo’s land where people rarely visited. Your horses busied themselves with a nearby stream, lapping up the clear water as you and the prince laid side by side in the knoll. Your eyes busied themselves with the fluffy white clouds in the sky, focusing on the feeling of the grass licking at your skin. Satoru’s eyes watched you as you watched the sky, trying not to pout at the feeling of you admiring a different color blue than his own. His heart tugged and he willed it to focus on the peacefulness of laying by your side. Morning doves cooed in the distance and the summer breeze swept away the uneasiness that tried to bury itself into your skin. “I wish we could lay here forever,” you commented after minutes of silence. Satoru huffed out in agreement. 

“Turn towards me,” he begged, the words barely loud enough to break through the sounds of nature. You weren’t used to Satoru being so soft spoken, quickly turning to lay on your side to meet his face. His eyes scan your features for a minute, before he breaks the silence again,  “You’re so beautiful,” he tells you simply, tucking away a strand of hair behind your ear. Your heart lurches and your stomach drops as his thumb touches your bottom lip, playing with the plush skin. 

Against everything in your body telling you to close your eyes and melt into his touch you sit up abruptly, clearing your throat and softly muttering about how dinner would be ready soon. As you go and fetch both of your horses, Satoru buries his head in between the long blades of grass, not bothering to fight back a childish groan.

┊p1┊𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠... p2┊

taglist: @bubera974 𐙚 @dahliawarner 𐙚 @phoenixisdabest 𐙚 @designerpvssy 𐙚

(comment to be added)

[asapeveryday]

Breath Me In

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Warnings: Smut (Fingering), weed, alcohol

Summary: Uconn’s end of summer party brings you all sorts of highs.

A/n: can you tell I like party settings??? Anyways. We need more fics of Paige receiving instead of always giving pls!! Someone please this girl!

Summer is coming to a close. Long August days turn to colder September nights, and the students of Uconn have mostly moved in for the new semester. A new year of college calls for a party.

Uconns annual end-of-summer party was an absolute staple to attend for seniors, richer students who lived in housing nearby often responsible for hosting. Summery rap and pop blasting, coolers and twisted tea by the gallons, string lights in big green backyards, patio furniture overrun by couples making out or slowly sobering up. It was a sight to behold, and you relished in the feeling of this, the beginning of the end of school.

When you make your way throughout the house, various people stop to talk to you, including the hostess herself.

Stella DeSantos is a trust fund girl who’s in her senior year for sports marketing, and this years lucky party organizer. She has the means, obviously, because the house is massive.

“So… gonna start the year off with some dick or what?” She laughs, already tipsy.

You just smile and shake your head. “I’m chill right now.” Is your reply. Honestly you just didn’t want to pull the ‘id rather have pussy’ card on her.

The girl swings an arm around you. “I could set you up with some really athletic guys if that’s your thing.” She hiccups. “Want a drink?”

She thrusts a mango white claw into your hand and you take it reluctantly. As much as you loved getting wasted the party was a bit too rowdy to feel comfortable. You were desperately searching for someone you knew well enough to hang out with that wasn’t already drunk, with no luck.

You stick by Stella for a while, standing by as she greets people and gets drunker by the minute. You’re still holding the same White-claw, though it’s mostly empty.

You’re scoping out the scene yourself, the house is filled with kids you’ve been in school with for the past years. Your gaze stops in the kitchen, where two girls reside. One tall with dark skin, hair slicked back and clothes baggy. You’d had classes with Aubrey Griffin before, she was intimidating but attractive.

The other girl was paler and slightly shorter, blonde hair tied back into a bun and glasses on her face.

“Paige!” Stella calls out, as if sensing your thoughts. She makes her way over to the two girls and you awkwardly follow behind. Everyone knows Paige Bueckers. She’s one of those students, everyone mostly likes her and she’s friends with all the right people. It puzzled you how someone so gay still attracted so many guys.

Stella talks to Aubrey and Paige, and they politely engage despite obviously being thrown off by how drunk she is. Their shared looks almost make you laugh. You take this as a chance to get a good look at Paige. She mostly stayed out of trouble or tough rumours, and kept to her main group of friends, so aside from her talent on the court you knew almost nothing.

You let yourself stare at her, noting her blue eyes, long lashes and wide smile. She carried herself confidently, but looked uncomfortable.

Finally she turns to meet your eye, and when her tongue flashes out to wet her lips you physically feel something in your stomach drop.

“You her babysitter or something?” She smirks.

“You’d think she knows how much she can handle by now.” You scoff. Stella barely notices, fully talking to Aubrey.

Paige’s eyes dart to the drink in your hand. “Good luck finding a ride home tonight.”

Before you can respond, maybe by telling her your name or sparking better conversation, Stella’s attention is drawn somewhere else and she starts to drag you away.

You turn to get one last look at Paige, and internally celebrate when your eyes meet.

-

As the summer sun finally began to set, it got a little too cold for everyone to be outside. The inside of the house was absolutely packed, the music was louder and the air was thicker. The smell of smoke and sound of people was starting to irritate you, but for whatever reason you didn’t want to leave just yet.

Stella was nowhere to be found and you were sitting on the kitchen counter next to some other girls, quietly sipping some drink while listening in to conversations. The original plan of staying mostly sober was ruined by your boredom, and though you weren’t drunk you felt significantly warmer and a little more confident.

“Oh, it’s you again.” A voice says. You turn to see it’s Paige and your heart skips a beat.

“I have a name.” You reply, not caring if you come off rude. She doesn’t seem to care either, just raising her eyebrows at you. “And it is?”

You tell her your name and she repeats it to herself with a smile. “I’m Paige.”

“I figured.” You laugh. The alcohol was making everything seem like less of a deal, had you talked to her more before you probably wouldn’t have been so casual.

“You drunk?” She asks, leaning against the counter across from you. At this angle you’re pretty much looking down at her, she looks cuter with her eyes wide and head tilted slightly upwards. You almost let your imagination get ahead of you.

“Getting there. You?”

Paige shakes her head no. “You don’t seem like much of a drinker.”

With a shrug, you say “This party is less fun than I thought it would be.”

“I’m gonna head outside if you’re tryna come.” She shrugs back.

You hop off of the counter and are reminded of the fact that Paige isn’t short. She seems happy that she’s not looking up at you anymore.

“Sure, why not.” You smile.

She leads you to the backyard and the sudden quiet is surprising. The music is muffled and the air is fresher, it’s a beautiful night and the yard is empty for the two of you. Paige heads straight for the pool, sitting down by the edge of the deep end and taking off her shoes, letting her legs dangle in the water. You join her and do the same.

“So you came to a party and you’re not drinking or getting high?” You ask her.

“Ah ah,” she smirks. “I’m getting high for sure, jus had to be a little sneaky. You can keep a secret, right?” Paige tilts her head at you, and you almost melt right there and then.

“I’m great at keeping secrets.” You eye her, tilting your head like she does. “But can all those people?” You gesture to the kids inside the house.

“Everyone in there is gonna be too drunk to remember me sneaking out for a blunt with a girl.” She finally breaks eye contact, reaching into her pocket for a tin of pre-rolled blunts.

She said ‘with a girl’ like her being with you could be a topic of conversation. The thought makes your mind race.

When Paige lights up and gets the first hit, her whole composure loosens.

The blue from the pool water reflecting onto her face, the slight glow of the blunt against her lips, the way she blows the smoke afterwards. It’s driving you insane.

You stare at your legs in the water, her pale ones next to yours. The night is beautiful. She’s beautiful. You wonder if she’ll remember anything tomorrow.

“Want sum?” Paige interrupts your thoughts, holding out the blunt. You know you shouldn’t mix weed with alcohol, but your heart is buzzing and her lips had already been on it, so you can’t say no.

Taking it from her nimble fingers (which you cursed yourself for even noticing) you inhale, letting the smoke fill you up before letting out a long breath, trying to ignore her sharp eyes on you.

“I’m surprised I haven’t noticed you around before.” She says, taking back the blunt. You let the statement linger in the air. For every hit you take, she takes three. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are already slightly pink.

“Are you not the noticing type?” You ask.

Paige’s eyes meet yours. “Are you?”

You laugh and take the blunt from her, holding the smoke in before tilting your head back and blowing it into the night sky.

“I notice a lot of things.” you say, glancing at her lips before meeting her eyes again.

“Oh yeah?” She says quietly, analyzing your features. If it weren’t for the drinks and the weed, you would’ve felt like prey under her watch.

“Yeah.” You match her tone.

She’s closer than you remember her being. The air smells like weed and chlorine, but she smells like summer.

Nobody says anything, you just keep passing the blunt.

“What was your first time getting high like?” You ask her.

“Freshman year, me and some other girls on my team decided we were gonna do it together.” She chuckles and shakes her head. “Don’t know why we started with edibles, but we were still high the next morning.”

“Oh shit.” You laugh.

“Yeah,” she huffs “and we had practice that afternoon, must’ve gone through like 3 bottles of eye drops each. What about you?”

“Senior year of high school.” You cringe and she smiles at your expression. “My girlfriend- at the time, was kind of addicted. Didn’t seem like a big deal then, but she begged me to smoke and I did. It was whatever.”

“Girlfriend?” She asks.

“You’re surprised?” You chuckle. “Shit, you really don’t notice anything.”

“Shut up.” She flicks your shoulder. “Any girlfriend now?”

“Fuck no.”

“I feel that.” She blows smoke into the crisp air. There’s a moment of comfortable silence, you looking into the water and her looking at you, before she finally says “Can I try something?”

“Like what?” You ask.

You can tell her thinking is slightly hazy, she’s moving slower and her eyes are tired, it’s attractive.

“Lemme jus show you…don’t freak.”

Paige takes a hit, then leans into you. In an instance her lips are on yours, prying you open and exhaling smoke into your mouth, then she pulls away. You resist the urge to choke, but manage to exhale smoothly. Your lips tingle where she made contact with you, and you feel your face get red at her expression. Paige is practically entranced.

“Little warning would’ve been better next time.” You cough.

“We can try again if you want.” She smirks, and you roll your eyes.

Once again Paige takes a hit then leans into you, this time placing her hand on your face. She huffs the smoke inside your mouth and you gladly take it, now knowing what to expect. When she pulls away you don’t turn your head, you just blow out the smoke, letting it cloud both your vision and hers. When it clears she’s staring dead at your lips.

Her lips meet yours again, this time without any weed. She’s taking her time with you, tongue exploring your mouth attentively, one hand still on your face while the other finds your thigh.

Her hands are calloused and controlled against your skin, her glasses bump your face as you kiss her. Her lips are soft.

You let your hands wander too, dancing under her black t-shirt and gripping her waist. You can feel her abs, toned from her athletic lifestyle. You can only imagine the things you could do with her abs alone.

Her hand leaves your thigh and meets yours under her shirt, gripping your wrist she guides you to her sports bra, letting you get under it and feel her breasts.

She sighs into your mouth when you lightly pinch her nipples, her usually confident voice now almost needy.

Paige’s kisses trail down to your neck, licking and biting into your soft skin. You let your fingers ghost against her until they reach the waistband of her sweatshorts.

“Can I?” You whisper, eager to feel her.

“Fuck, yes.” She murmurs against you, sucking beautifully painted hickeys from your neck to your collarbone.

When your fingers rub her through her boxers you can hear her breathing change, and it’s doing things to you. Rubbing slow circles on her clit, you feel yourself getting wet.

“You let every girl down your pants, Paige?” You mumble. She stares up at you, eyes wide and bloodshot.

You relish in the way she bites her lip when your pace quickens, you can feel her slick through the boxer briefs and you can’t help but tease her. “So wet already…”

Finally you let your hand slip into her briefs, finding her entrance and teasing around her hole. Her hips jerk upwards, giving you room to move, offering herself to you. “Stop talking.” She grumbles, cheeks pink with embarrassment.

You connect with her lips again as your fingers finally dip inside of her, causing her to let a soft moan out. You realize suddenly that anyone inside the house could come outside and see you two, but with all the weed and alcohol you couldn’t care less, you couldn’t stop now, not when Paige was grinding against your fingers and letting out sweet whimpers into your mouth, her hands feeling you all over.

Breaking the kiss is the best decision you make, because you can actually see her. Her face is perfect, hair falling out of her bun, glasses sliding down her nose, her expression a sexy, needy pout, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.

You pick up the pace, pumping your fingers in and out of her and grinning as her whimpers get a little louder. The noise of her slick, her voice, the crickets outside and the muffled music is almost magical to you. Her blue eyes shining and glossy from the weed and the reflection of the water.

“Fuck.” She murmurs, covering her mouth. “Oh, fuck.”

Her hips are violently bucking now as you curl your fingers inside of her and use your thumb to apply pressure to her clit. Her eyes are screwed shut now, and you can tell she’s close.

“Gonna cum for me Paige? Cmon baby, let it out.”

She calls out your name, legs open and pussy throbbing against your fingers. Finally she loosens around you, reaching her orgasm.

She’s still clinging to your body and catching her breath when you pull your hand out from her shorts, licking your fingers like you’ve just finished a meal. Paige’s eyes are trained on your lips wrapped around the same digits that were just inside of her.

You just smile at her staring. “You good?” You ask her. She just chuckles and takes off her shirt. “I’m good. Might needa cool down though.” Paige eyes you as she slips into the pool.

You laugh and take your shirt off too, slipping into the cold water with her.

It’s a good night, filling your lungs with her, breathing Paige in.

[cademygod]

it's pretty much canon that barty would lose his mind over the 'you little shit' scene in the first movie and evan would love the playing-keep-away-with-the-card scene in the second movie

will never be over the Now You See Me propaganda in sun tea in the summer @cademygod

[omegastorms]

Thoughts on Scents

So I wanted to just give my thoughts on some interesting scent options, because no hate to sandalwood, it seems like everyone always smells like it in fics. And since I also have an indie perfume obsession, I wanted to share some scents that may broaden people's horizons. I may do a part two depending on how well I like how this turned out.

Pine resin, with hints of wood smoke, and warm brandy.

The smell of damp fresh earth after a summer rain.

Palo santo, dry desert grasses, and sage

Amber, laudanum, and frankincense

Tobacco, burnt grasses, with hints of citrus

Pine needles, forest floor, and stone

Saltwater, ambergris, fresh rain, beach sand

Stone, oakmoss, clay, and wet concrete

Animal fur musk, mulled wine, and a cold winter breeze

Freshly washed linen, lemon cakes, and black tea

Coconut, dark rum, and sugarcane

Leather bound books, a dying fire, and cedar

A crisp fall evening, apple orchards, and toasted marshmallows

Magnolias, Spanish moss, and honeysuckle

Sun warmed earth, tomato plants, and iced tea

Cactus flowers, sweet grass, and wood dry vanilla

Lemon grass, heliotrope, and sugar cookies

Dead leaves, dry hay, and cognac

And that's no even touching on all the different kinds of plants, flowers, and foods. I could go on for a very long time.

[xoxochb]

percy jackson master list ୨୧ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

♪ ༘⋆ you came out of the blue like that!

blurbs ✧˖°

. don’t blame me love made me crazy

. I was enchanted to meet you

. you are in love, true love

. but I know I had the best day with you today

. morning loneliness comes around when I’m not dreaming about you

. now he’s thinkin’ ‘bout me every night

. I would fall from grace just to touch your face

. do I love him? do I hate him? I guess it’s up and down

. a band aid and a kiss

. when you aim at the devil make sure you don’t miss!!

. kiss it better? part two

. promises part 2

. pro tip: don’t study with your boyfriend!!

. maroon

. sun kissed

. loverboy and hatergirl

. you drew stars around my scars

. like flowers in your hair

. he was a skater boy, she said ‘see you later, boy’

. she was a girl, he was an idiot

. days blend to one

. the little mermaid

. diet pepsi

. the morning after

. certified music addict

. domesticity

. silver soul

. trick r treat

. little miss clumsy

. I can see you

. hot summer nights, mid july

. ocean lovers

. my good looking boy

. this love is ours

. I walked with you once upon a dream

. infirmary’s favorite patient

. birthday offerings

. that one convo

. sunburnt

. assorted berries

. prettiest eyes (ever seen)

. new york city

. guilty as sin? ꨄ︎

. wildest dreams ꨄ︎

. is it a crime to say I still miss you?

. saturdays are for sleeping in (or not) part two

. lavender haze ꨄ︎

. delicate (isn’t it?) ꨄ︎

. midnights like this

. inseparable idiot

. polar bears (or are they?)

. short n sweet ꨄ︎

. types of galaxies

. summer song

. cordiform pizzas just for you!

. hot as hell!

. untitled blurb ꨄ︎

. horror geek of a girlfriend!

. glitch ꨄ︎

. ice cube of a girlfriend

. cabin three

. untitled blurb ꨄ︎

fics ✧˖°

. a moment of warm sun

. looking at you got me thinking nonsense

. all because I liked a boy

. this love left a permanent mark

. to love a soul

. king of my heart

misc (hcs + series) ✧˖°

. sweet tea in the summer

. I’d stop the world and melt with you

. there is thunder in our hearts

. the one (master list) <- authors fav!

. feet on the dashboard, he’s like a poem I wish I wrote!!

. better than the movies (master list)

. random hcs

. untitled untitled 2 untitled 3

. cinnamon girl

. lust for life

. you must like me for me

. that silly tiktok trend

. rainbows, sunshine, and everything nice!

. here comes the sun

. pretty in pink

. wonderland (master list)

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Cat and Mouse

Dark!Dad!Barty Crouch Jr. x Mom!Reader

Wc: ~4k

Summary: The reader can never truly get away Barty, no matter how hard she tries. He'll always find his family.

CW: Dark!Possessive!Barty, AFAB!Reader, reader has a young daughter, themes of control and manipulation, being stalked, break in, a brief moment where the reader thinks her daughter is in danger, Invasion of personal space and autonomy

AN: Heavily inspired by this fic, 1000% recommend

Your daughter's giggles were always your favorite sound, especially so early in the morning. You could swear by it, it was better than any alarm clock.

Today was no exception. As you crawled out of your bed and got to your feet. You couldn't help but smile, wrapping yourself up in your silk robe and slipping on your slippers, following after the lovely sound to your daughters room. You put your hand on the doorknob and leaned down to bring your ear closer, smiling brighter as you heard her giggles persist.

“Is that funny?” You heard a deep voice coo. Your heart dropped into your stomach.

Suddenly, the bright sun of the morning chasing away all the dangers of the night felt like a fool’s tale. The shining walls and work you'd done to get here meant nothing. The summer heat that chased away the night chill did nothing to warm you as the feelings of dread overtook you.

You opened the door, trying to school your expression. Your eyes locked on your daughter who turned and smiled wide at you. “Momma! Momma, Daddy's home!”

She always looked so happy. Whenever he would come back, whenever he would find you, your daughter would look at you with those big delighted eyes. The same ones she shared with the man in front of her. You couldn't help but notice a bit of a breeze crawl up your back, not from the stare of the monster before you, but as you turned to discover, your hall window was open..

You don't know what was more terrifying, the fact he was able to get past your wards or the fact he was able to do it without waking you.

“Yeah, princess. Daddy's home.” Barty gushed to his little girl, finally getting you to turn and face him. His eyes were already locked on yours. His eyes said it all, he was challenging you, to say anything, to deny him, to push him over the edge. You had grown familiar with Barty’s looks.

In Hogwarts, he would use them to keep your quiet, remind you not to let people see you get too close to him, to keep you obedient and complacent in the web he meticulously crafted just for you. The web he still had you trapped in all these years later- you struggled, that's all you could do.

Because what could a muggleborn witch like you do to protect yourself from falling in love with a Crouch? To fall victim to his endless worship of you, just to turn around and scorn your blood in front of the people he craved to impress. It was for your protection, he guaranteed, that Voldemort would make an exception of you. That he knew your soul was destined for him and he would make it clear to everyone else that it was true.

“Darling, I'm just going to speak to mommy for a moment, alright?”

Your daughter pouted, holding up her tea cup and he laughed, waving his wand to show her the same thing you assumed he must have been showing her to make her giggle. His bloody magic. The magic you begged him not to expose her to. It wasn't safe, not for you. Certainly not for your daughter, a stain on his family tree.

When he finished he gave her a kiss to her temple, and ruffled her hair. Standing up and walking across the room to you. Quickly, you turned and grabbed your wand from your pocket. Muttering a quick spell on the window as you passed, on your way to the kitchen.

It was the same routine, everytime he found you. Fix whatever damages had been caused, close the blinds, he would dismiss your daughter so you two could talk. You knew Barty could never bring himself to hurt you, in no world would he let any harm come to you or his little girl, but that didn't mean you didn't fear his anger.

You learned what testing his limits could mean. When the war began and you found out you were pregnant, Barty was ecstatic. He bought a home in the Hogwarts highlands, he used you as his get away. He would fight in a war against who you were and come home to dote on you like you were some god. It worked, at first, you were so blinded by love you didn't stop to think about what he was doing.

It was the friends you had closed out that brought you back to reality. Sirius showed up when he knew Barty would be gone, begging you to see reason. He promised you he and Remus would be there when you came to your senses. It took a few days but eventually you packed a bag. When Barty came home you begged him to leave with you, to either join your friend's side of the war or leave it completely with you.

But Barty, he had a way about him. A way that made you foggy minded and willing to forget yourself for hours. When you woke up in his bed, alone again the next morning, you knew it was time.

You'd spent months on end trying to keep away from him. But no matter where you went, he always found you.

Your daughter's giggles echoed in your mind as you moved through the motions, trying to calm down. The warmth of the morning now felt suffocating, as if the very air had turned against you. Barty’s presence had that effect- stealing the light, replacing it with a cold dread that settled deep in your bones.

In the kitchen, you set your wand down on the counter, your hand shaking slightly. You didn’t bother with tea or the pretense of normalcy. There was no use in trying to act like this was just another visit. He always saw through that.

The sound of his footsteps was deliberate, slow and measured as he entered the kitchen behind you. You didn’t need to turn to know he was watching you, that smug sense of control radiating from him like a dark cloud.

“You’re getting better at hiding,” Barty said casually, leaning against the doorframe as if he belonged there, as if he hadn’t just broken into your home and stolen another morning of peace. “I almost didn’t find you this time.”

You tightened your grip on the counter but didn’t respond. Any words you said now would only fan the flames.

“Still,” He continued, his voice calm but with an edge that made your skin crawl, “you should know better by now. There’s no point in running. Not from me.”

“What do you want, Crouch?” You snapped, your voice sharp but low, desperate to keep your daughter blissfully unaware in her room. Your jaw tightened as your heart raced, every muscle in your body screaming at you to act, to escape, but you knew better.

“Ouch,” Barty murmured, the word drawn out like a mockery of your tone. He gave a low, familiar chuckle that made your skin crawl. “No ‘hello’? No ‘it’s good to see you’? Have I fallen so far in your affections, my love?”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you in a smooth stride. Your body stiffened as his hand slid over your arm, slow and deliberate, the other curling around your waist. Even as you resisted, he pulled you firmly back into his chest.

You felt his breath against your neck, warm and slow, the press of his nose grazing your skin as he inhaled deeply. “Still wearing that perfume I like,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, as though you were lovers reunited instead of prey cornered by a predator.

“Let go of me,” You hissed, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

He didn’t. Instead, he hummed softly, almost contentedly, as if he had all the time in the world. “You know,” He began, his voice silkier now, “I always miss this when you’re gone. The way you fit so perfectly here-” his hand pressed against your waist, possessive, “-like you were made for me.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch his cold, calculating eyes. “Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?” You shot back, forcing as much venom into your words as you could muster. “That this is love? That what you’ve done to me- to us- is anything but a twisted game now?”

Barty’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into your waist just enough to remind you of his strength. The smile on his lips faded, replaced by something darker, something far more dangerous.

“Careful,” He warned, his voice dropping to a whisper, a quiet menace laced in his tone. “You’re upset. I’ll forgive it this time, but don’t mistake my patience for weakness. I’ve come too far, sacrificed too much, to lose you now.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to stay still. Reacting would only make things worse. He thrived on control, on watching you squirm under the weight of his presence. You couldn’t give him that satisfaction- not now.

“What do you want?” You asked again, your voice calmer this time, though the ice in your tone was unmistakable.

He tilted his head, a flash of amusement returning to his features. “You. Her. Us. Isn’t that obvious by now?”

“There is no us, Barty,” You said through clenched teeth, daring to step out of his grasp. This time, he let you, though his gaze never left you, sharp and predatory.

“You keep saying that,” He mused, leaning casually against the counter as if he belonged there. Watching as you stayed a foot or so away. As if he was unsatisfied with the distance, he reached forward and pulled you back to him.. “And yet, here we are. You, me, and our perfect little girl.” His smile returned, sinister and self-assured. “I hate fighting with you. You know what?” He mumbled, pressing lazy kisses up from your neck to your cheek. With all your fight you couldn't bring yourself to attempt to push him away again.

Because despite everything, he was still the man you loved more then life sometimes. The only person you'd ever care more for now- was the very person tying you to him.

It was the same game every time. Barty would find you, tearing through the fragile walls of peace you’d built, leaving only fragments of the life you’d tried to carve out without him. He’d remind you of who he was- not just with his suffocating eyes or possessive touches, but with the way he’d command your space, your air, your very existence. He loved you the way a bonfire devours kindling, bright and all-consuming, but he swore you were the creatures he warmed by his flames.

In truth, Barty was a forest fire. Unrelenting, destructive, impossible to escape. He touched every tree but left none standing. He created a cage of danger, an inescapable labyrinth of fear and passion that kept you tethered to him. And you- trapped between wanting to run and wanting to stay- played right into his hands every time.

The moment you found a new place to call home, he would be there, clawing his way back into your life as if he had every right to. He’d paw at you like a man starved, eyes ravenous, hands desperate to feel every inch of you again. He’d spoil your daughter rotten, making her laugh and smile in ways that made you both grateful and bitter all at once. And then, when he’d gotten what he wanted, he’d leave.

Every time. He’d leave.

To fight a war against the very thing he swore to love.

And yet, it wasn’t the war that broke you. It was the time in between- the stolen mornings, the whispered promises, the moments where you allowed yourself to believe he could change.

Because between the fights, between the harsh hands and the soft touches, you would melt. You would dissolve into the girl you once were, blinded by the love you still harbored for the boy he used to be. The boy who worshipped you with a ferocity that made you feel invincible. The boy who told you he would destroy anyone who dared to harm you, even as he slowly became the very thing you feared.

And somehow, in the fleeting moments of quiet, you still loved him.

The realization burned like a curse, hotter and sharper than any spell. Because even now, as you stood in the kitchen with his shadow still lingering in on the counter you clung to- as he continued to trial his lazy kisses across your skin, your heart betrayed you. It clung to the memory of his laugh, his touch, the way he’d hold you like you were his whole world.

Your heart ached with a contradiction you couldn’t reconcile, the tangled knot of love and fear twisting tighter with every lazy kiss Barty trailed along your neck. His lips were soft, familiar, stirring a warmth you hated yourself for feeling. Even as your mind screamed at you to pull away, to fight, to remind him that he had no place here, your body betrayed you, frozen under the weight of his presence.

He whispered something, too low for you to hear, his breath brushing against your ear. It didn’t matter what he said; the words were always the same. Sweet nothings designed to make you forget the darkness he carried, the danger he brought into your life.

Your hands gripped the counter tighter, your knuckles white as you tried to ground yourself. But his voice, his touch, the intoxicating familiarity of him- it was suffocating.

“I miss this,” Barty murmured, his tone deceptively gentle as his hand slid from your waist to rest against your hip. “I miss you.”

You closed your eyes, willing the tears threatening to spill to stay where they were. He didn’t deserve them. Not anymore.

“You don’t get to say that,” You whispered, your voice trembling despite your efforts to keep it steady. “You don’t get to miss me, Barty. Not after everything you’ve done.”

He paused for a moment, his lips hovering just above your skin. “Everything I’ve done,” he repeated slowly, as if the words themselves amused him. “Everything I’ve done has been for you. For us. For that perfect little girl you gave me- thank you.” He breathed, low and condescending, even as you felt his lips curl into that familiar sweet smile. “Thank you for her.”

“Fuck you.” You hissed, tears finally slipping past your eyes. “You don't get to thank me. How dare you-”

"Momma? Daddy?"

The small voice cut through the tension like a spell, making both of you freeze. Your daughter stood in the doorway, clutching her stuffed owl, her eyes wide with curiosity and a touch of worry.

Barty turned first, his entire demeanor softening in an instant. The dangerous glint in his eyes disappeared, replaced by warmth and affection so convincing it made your stomach churn.

"Hey, princess," he cooed, crouching to her level. "What are you doing out here? Didn't I tell you to keep practicing your tea party skills?"

Ophelia tilted her head, looking between the two of you. "You were shouting," she said simply, her tiny voice laced with innocence. "Are you and Mommy mad?"

Your throat tightened, and you struggled to find the words, but Barty was faster.

"Of course not, darling," he said, his tone dripping with sweetness as he reached out to her. She took his hand without hesitation, allowing him to pull her closer. "Mommy and I were just talking about grown-up things. Boring, silly stuff, nothing to worry about."

You wanted to scream. To contradict him.

You hated it. How well he treated her, how much of a father he could be. You knew it had to be some form of healing for him, wanting to give his daughter the father he never had. But it didn’t make it any easier for you to watch. It didn’t make it easier to stomach how easily he could shift from the storm that haunted your nights to the warm, doting father who seemed so perfect in her eyes.

"Mommy?" Ophelia’s voice pulled you back to the present, her wide, curious eyes locked on yours. She had Barty’s eyes, that same piercing gaze that could see straight through you. It was both beautiful and heart breaking, knowing what those eyes had seen before they became hers.

You forced yourself to smile, though it felt as fragile as glass- quickly brushing away your tears in hopes she didn't see them. "No, sweetheart," You cooed, your voice soft but tight. "Mommy and Daddy aren’t mad. Daddy’s just being… silly, as usual."

She giggled, the sound like bells in the tense air. Barty gave her a conspiratorial wink, as if the two of them shared some secret that didn’t include you. It made your skin crawl but your heart throb all the same. This wasn't fair.

"See, angel? Everythings alright.” Barty scooped her up effortlessly, holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. His expression softened further, the love in his eyes so genuine it made your heart ache. “Mommy just worries too much sometimes,” He teased with a gentle laugh, brushing a stray curl out of Ophelia’s face. “But you don’t need to worry, do you? Daddy’s here to take care of everything.”

Ophelia rested her head against his shoulder, her small fingers clutching his collar. “Promise?” She asked softly, her innocent trust making your chest tighten.

“I promise,” He replied, his voice warm and soothing. His eyes flicked back to you, the unspoken challenge still lingering beneath his tenderness. “Daddy always keeps his promises, doesn’t he?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Instead, you swallowed the lump in your throat and turned away, busying yourself with the kettle on the counter. Anything to avoid the sight of them together, to ignore the knot of guilt and helplessness that twisted tighter in your chest with every word.

“Daddy,” Ophelia murmured, her voice muffled as she nuzzled into his neck. “Will you stay this time?”

Your breath hitched, your fingers trembling as you gripped the edge of the counter. You dared to glance over your shoulder, catching the way Barty’s expression softened further. For a fleeting moment, there was no malice in his eyes- only love, raw and unfiltered.

“For as long as I can, my little star,” He said softly, pressing a kiss to her hair.

She beamed at him, her giggles filling the room again as he twirled her around, the tension momentarily forgotten. But as you watched, the weight of reality settled heavily on your shoulders. This was the game he always played- pulling you in, wrapping you in the warmth of a family you desperately wanted to protect, only to remind you of how fragile it all was.

“Ophelia,” You called, your voice gentle and thick. “Are you hungry, baby?”

Ophelia perked up at the sound of your voice, turning her head just enough to look at you over Barty’s shoulder. “Yes, Mommy!” She chirped, her stuffed owl clutched tightly in one hand. “Can we have pancakes? The ones with the happy faces?”

You forced a smile, nodding as you stepped toward the pantry. “Of course, sweetheart. Go wash your hands first, okay? And don’t forget to set up your tea party things for later.”

She wriggled out of Barty’s arms with the unbridled energy only a child could have, her little feet padding across the floor as she darted out of the kitchen. Her laughter echoed down the hall, leaving a momentary warmth in its wake that quickly dissipated as you felt Barty’s gaze settle on you again.

You didn’t look at him. Instead, you busied yourself with gathering the ingredients for pancakes, focusing on the mundane task like it was the only thing tethering you to reality.

“She’s growing up so fast,” Barty murmured, his tone soft but pointed. “Every time I see her, she’s more like you. Stubborn, sharp, and so full of life.”

You bristled at his words but didn’t respond, your hands steady as you set a mixing bowl on the counter.

“But she has my eyes,” He continued, stepping closer, his voice lowering to that dangerous, familiar drawl. “Doesn’t she?”

You slammed the whisk down a little harder than intended, finally turning to face him. “What do you want, Barty?” you demanded a final time, your voice low and sharp. “You’ve played the loving father card. You’ve made your presence known. What’s next? What do you think this is going to accomplish?”

He tilted his head, studying you with that infuriating smirk that never quite reached his eyes. “Accomplish?” he echoed, as though the very word amused him. “Oh, love, this isn’t about accomplishing anything. This is about being where I belong. With my family.”

“This isn’t your family,” You shot back, the venom in your voice unmistakable. “You don’t get to waltz in and pretend you belong here, not after everything you’ve done.”

His expression darkened, the playful edge to his smirk hardening into something colder. Then, slowly, he smiled. That same boyish charming smile you always thought to be true. He stepped behind you, running his palms down your arms with a low sigh. “I really do hate fighting you, star.”

His hands slid down your arms, his touch deceptively gentle, but his grip firm enough to remind you of the power he held. You froze as Barty leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"I hate it," he murmured, his voice soft, yet laced with something darker. "I hate how stubborn you are, how you make me work so hard to remind you of what we have."

You gritted your teeth, refusing to look at him, to meet those piercing eyes that could always see straight through you. “What we had,” you corrected coldly, though your voice trembled.

He chuckled, a low sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “You can say that as much as you want,” he said, his fingers trailing down your sides to your waist, holding you in place. “But we both know it’s not true. We still have it. You feel it every time I’m near, don’t you? Just like I do.”

“Let go of me,” you whispered, your voice breaking under the weight of his presence. You hated how weak you sounded, how easily he unraveled you.

But Barty didn’t let go. Instead, he turned you to face him, his hands settling on your hips as his stormy eyes bore into yours. "You’ve given me the best gift, love,” he said, his tone softening as his gaze flicked toward the hallway where Ophelia had disappeared. “Her. You. You’re my everything. Both of you. And you know that.”

Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill as his words pierced through your defenses. “You don’t get to say that,” you choked out. “You don’t get to act like you’re some devoted father when you’re-” Your voice cracked, and you bit down hard on your lip, desperate to hold yourself together. “You’re the reason I had to run. The reason she’s in danger.”

“In danger?” Barty repeated, his voice sharp now, his hands tightening on your hips. “You think I’d ever let anything happen to either of you? Do you really believe I’d let anyone touch my family?”

“You’ve already put us in danger,” you shot back, your anger flaring despite the tears threatening to fall. “Your choices, your loyalty to him- you’ve made us targets, Barty. Don’t pretend you haven’t.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he leaned in closer. “Everything I’ve done has been for you,” he said, his voice low and fierce. “For us. I took that mark to protect you. I fought for a place in his world so he wouldn’t touch you or her. Do you know what I’ve sacrificed to keep you safe?”

“You don’t get to use that as an excuse,” you hissed, tears streaming freely now. “You don’t get to justify everything you’ve done by pretending it was for me. You made your choices, Barty. You chose him over me. Over us.”

His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears even as his grip felt possessive, inescapable. “I chose you,” he insisted, his voice trembling with a rare vulnerability. “Every single time, I chose you. And I’d do it again, star. I’d do anything for you.”

“Then let me go,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Let me live my life. Let me protect her.”

“I can’t do that,” He said, shaking his head as his forehead pressed against yours. “You’re mine. Both of you. And I won’t let you take her- or yourself- away from me again.”

The weight of his words settled heavily in the space between you, suffocating and undeniable. You hated how your heart ached at the raw desperation in his voice, how a part of you wanted to believe him, to give in like you always did.

“You always do this,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “You make me forget how much I hate you.”

He smiled faintly, his lips brushing against your temple in a touch so tender it made your chest ache. “That’s because you don’t hate me, love. You never have. And you never will.”

You wanted to scream, to push him away, but your body betrayed you, leaning into his touch as your tears soaked into his shirt. “This isn’t fair,” you choked out, your voice muffled against him.

“No,” he agreed, his arms wrapping around you as if to shield you from the very chaos he’d brought into your life. “But I’ll make it right, star. I’ll prove to you that this is where you’re meant to be. Where we’re meant to be.”

And as much as you wanted to fight, as much as you wanted to push him away and reclaim the life you’d fought so hard to build, a part of you- the part that had always belonged to him- knew he was right.

Because no matter how far you ran, no matter how hard you fought, Barty Crouch Jr. would always find his way back to you.

And you would always let him in.

[farfromstrange]

Fictober Day 1: Baking Cookies

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Baking Cookies (🌼)

Summary: You convince Matt to bake cookies with you, and it’s a rather… domestic scene.

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff. That’s it. That’s the post.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/n: Day 1 of Fictober and we’re starting with something sweet! The -ber months always get me in the mood for cookies, especially chai tea or matcha cookies, so that’s what inspired me. Who wouldn’t want to bake cookies with Matt on a cold and rainy day? I know I would. If you want to be tagged for all fics of this event, let me know. Other than that, I am using my respective fluff and smut tag lists that I use for just about everything I write. But if you want to be tagged for both and aren't already on my tag list, feel free to tell me in the comments! Now, I’m so happy we all get to do another October together, and I can’t wait for you to see what I’ve got cooking for you! May you all come out of this sufficiently satisfied.

Read Me On AO3!

The streets of New York are bathed in a disarray of colors as dead leaves continue to fall off the half-green trees. Before you knew it, summer had slipped away into a moment in time. The heatwave that had terrorized the city turned colder with the end of September, and then suddenly, October was knocking on your door. 

You watch the rain trickle down the kitchen windows. The air smells of roasted cinnamon and coffee beans. The billboard outside shines brighter than the afternoon sun stuck behind a sky of gray, throwing a blanket of dark purple over the apartment, and the radio has been playing the same Beach House song on repeat for the past hour. But as you look over at the love of your life, his rough fingers delicately dancing over the label on the sugar jar to figure out what’s inside, there is no doubt in your mind that this is where you belong.

Matt is wearing the maroon sweater you knitted for him last Christmas. Once the seasons start changing, he pulls it out of the closet like he couldn’t wait to wear it again. Your hands crafted something for him to wear so he wouldn’t have to suffer through the cold anymore; there are not enough words in the English language to describe how much that means to him, but you know. You always know.

He looks almost content, standing there with his hair tousled, glasses discarded somewhere in the living room, and a faint smile on his lips. His brown eyes are so soft they remind you of the hazelnut coffee you shared before you suggested, “You want to bake some cookies?”

Much to your surprise, Matt didn’t argue. You expected him to tell you that it’s not Christmas yet, and you were prepared to tell him that cookies don’t need a specific season to be baked. But his face lit up as soon as the words had left your mouth, and he was more than eager to spend the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen with you. 

“How much sugar do we need?” he asks. 

You look down at the handwritten chai cookie recipe he picked out. “Uh, half a cup,” you say. 

He nods, eyebrows furrowing in utmost concentration as his hands feel around the countertop for the measuring cups. You gently place your hand over yours and guide it to the cold plastic. 

His smile widens. “Thank you.”

You look at him like he’s the only man in the world, and to you, he is. It’s not often the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen lets someone into his heart, you learned, but you only fell harder for him when he finally did. He’s beautiful and not at all perfect, but he is all you want.

“Sugar?” Matt snaps you out of your thoughts. 

“Right,” you murmur. “Half a cup.”

He can probably hear your heart racing, hammering against your ribcage. You guide your joined hands into the sugar, filling it only half before moving over to the bowl with the other dry ingredients. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t even comment on how flustered you are, he just holds on tightly to your hands as though he is afraid you might slip away if he doesn’t. 

It is a different kind of intimacy that’s almost sensual, bodies brushing as you get a whisk to mix it all together, your hand over his and the rain pattering against the window in tune with the radio. 

The cinnamon and the chai tea mix with the faint note of Matt’s cologne on your body, on his shirt, and the scent is unlike anything you could possibly describe. You find yourself leaning closer, impossibly closer, barely stirring anymore. He’s home. He’s your home. 

“Is this part of the recipe?” Matt murmurs. 

You hum. “This step is called stirring the batter.”

He smiles against your temple. “Mh. I like this step.”

“Me too.”

One of his hands slips from yours and comes to rest around your waist, swaying you to the music. You wouldn’t dare break this magic.

“Is there a step called ‘Kiss my future Mrs. Murdock’?” he asks then.

Blood rushes to your head. You’re so fucking happy. A giggle slips past your lips. “I think that’s the next step,” you say. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He bridges the gap between you like a man starved, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that knocks the air right out of your fragile lungs. His hand tugs you just a little closer. You belong to me, the action screams. And while you would never allow yourself to be considered someone’s property, it is nice to be wanted. To be needed. To be desired like you are the only thing on his mind, and treated right. Because you deserve it.

After a moment, he pulls away. His unfocused eyes roam your face, but you know he is only listening to your heartbeat, smelling you, feeling you—that’s how he sees you. 

“What’s next?” he asks softly. 

You peek down at the batter, then look back at him. Your mind is still reeling from the kiss, but you manage to pull yourself together enough to say, “Wet ingredients.”

“Oh?”

“Not like that, you pervert!” 

Matt chuckles, throwing his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking about it.” You swat his chest. “I wanted to bake cookies, so let’s bake some damn cookies.”

If you don’t pull away now, you’re sure you won’t get anywhere tonight. 

“Is that what we’re doing?” he teases. 

You nod. “That’s what we’re doing.”

He takes whatever you give him, and does whatever you tell him to until the cookies are finally in the oven. He doesn’t waste another second before pulling you back into his arms.

“Hi,” he says. 

You smile back at him. “Hi to you, too.”

“You forgot this…” You watch as he reaches into his pocket to pull out a ring—your ring.

It was only natural for him to ask you to marry him. He’d been waiting an eternity to do so. No one knows him like you do. No one sees him like you do, and no one loves him quite like you. You’ve seen him at his best and his worst, and you love him not despite but regardless of all of his demons. He doesn’t know what he did to ever deserve you. Quite frankly, he’s not sure he will ever be worthy, but he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try.

Matt had gotten so used to people walking out on him before you came along that he truly believed he was beyond redemption. Beyond saving. But then you tore open the manifest of his soul, read all the pages, and you gave him your heart anyway. He has not let a day go by where he hasn’t at least tried to do right by you. To take care of you. To love you. To carry you in his very hands like the fucking ethereal being that you are. He’s so scared of losing you, he sometimes loses sight of what he wants just to make you happy, but it’s worth seeing the smile on your face when he brings you flowers he thinks smell like you, or when he gets dinner from your favorite restaurant to surprise you after a long day at work. 

Matt’s only purpose in life is to make you happy because he knows you give him the world in return, a kind of love he never thought he would get to experience. It’s unconditional, it’s deep, and at times, it hurts, but he’s learning what it is like to appreciate the life he was given.

He would steal the stars for you if you wanted them. He would die for you, and sometimes he thinks he might even kill for you. Break all of his rules just to make sure you stay unharmed. He would go up against God, even, if it meant you wouldn’t have to suffer. He would not survive losing you, and sometimes, that scares him.

It has been a long road for him, and at times it felt like he was carrying a wooden cross on his back like Jesus did, but all the suffering eventually led to a sense of peace. He learned how to love again—to love you. After Elektra, after putting Fisk away, after everything, he allowed himself to settle down. And he knew shortly after he met you that he was going to marry you. 

You wrap your hand around the ring in his hand, and he gasps softly as he returns to reality. “Didn’t want it to get dirty,” you whisper. 

Matt slips it on your finger, and it feels again like the first time he did it. “I know. I kept it safe for you,” he says. A pause, and then, “I love you… Mrs. Murdock.”

He will never tire of saying it. Not even when you’re old and gray and you can’t remember where you put your godforsaken glasses. 

You wrap your arms around his neck. “I love you, Mr. Murdock. And I can’t wait to marry you.”

The honesty in your voice overwhelms him. “You mean that?” 

“With all my heart,” you promise.

The words take a second to seep in, to withstand the doubts that are always raging inside of him, but then he pulls you in, and he kisses you again. He kisses you like his life depends on it, the delicious smell of chai tea cookies filling the air, and it’s the safest you know you are ever going to be—here, with him, and in his arms. 

@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @thatonegamefish @amberritonicole @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart @ethereal-blaze @littleagxs @lucienofthelakes

[cademygod]

last chapter of sun tea in the summer will be out by labor day and i am NOT lying this time

[flyingwargle]

october fanfic recs!

i don't have too many this month, so check out the previous months' recs: july, august, september

some of these fics are rated e!

sakuatsu

Dawn and Other Acts of Love t. 4.6k. sakusa's worst nightmare has come true: he has to stay the weekend at atsumu's. such a funny premise spun into a fluffy piece with light hurt and so much comfort. loved it!

shoot to kill g. 6.2k. this obliterated me and continues to haunt me. atsumu knows not to cross the line when it comes to insults and arguments, but sakusa does not, and says something that he shouldn't have. very powerful, with a tender conclusion at the end. one of the best fics i read this year <3

Summer Special: Omigiri t. 6.9k. osamu asks sakusa to be his model for his upcoming summer umeboshi onigiri special, but it turns out to be a ploy for him to confess to atsumu. absolutely hilarious.

The Taste of 2 a.m. t. 8.2k. atsumu is an insomniac with a need to drink tea at 2 am and sakusa joins him. they eventually fall in love with the routine and each other.

Curse Breaking for Dummies: A Setter's Guide to Getting the Guy g. 10.2k. 2/2. modern magic twist where atsumu is cursed with a love curse and everyone falls in love with him except sakusa. you can tell where this will go. very fun and lighthearted!

love as told by you t. 11.1k. this fic is the sun that beams onto you at the end of a rainstorm, reassuring you that love exists, and you'll find love, or a platonic soulmate. it's so warm and tender, choke full of affectionate details of a blooming sakuatsu relationship. a comfort fic, for sure.

recipe for disaster e. 22.9k. fwb narrative where atsumu falls in love with sakusa, featuring anxiety, supportive brothers, and sakusa who also loves him back. the sunaosa side of things is also *chef's kiss* and recommended below ehe

sunaosa

turn west towards dawn e. 2.7k. prose intertwined with letters about osamu getting an email from suna while studying in italy to reconnect after their break-up. the writing is both light but heavy with their lingering emotions and regret that makes your heart throb.

resistance to flow t. 6.2k. fwb to lovers agenda. i will never tire of the slippery slope of falling in love, especially if it's written beautifully.

A Primer for the Small Weird Orchestra Loves t. 8.2k. au where the boys are in an orchestra and suna helps osamu with the violin. lovely details and slow burn, with also a sakuatsu sequel.

of great ambition m. 17.8k. more of a suna-centric character study with a splash of sunaosa that focuses on suna's journey to become a pro. suna is so vulnerable in this, and he deserves all the glory for himself. it's also very in line with how i interpret his character <3

secret menu e. 26.3k. the sunaosa side of recipe for disaster. suna takes a part-time job working at onigiri miya during the off-season and gets more than he bargained for. also fwb narrative but augh. augh. the writing for both fics is so good and tailored to each character's perspective. i love both of them.

bokuaka

an ode to a conversation stuck in your throat e. 3.1k. a character study of bokuto who has bpd with spice. achingly soft and full of love.

crossing distance g. 4k. bokuto went abroad to study after high school and akaashi is the first one that he contacts. i just love how they were able to fall into each other again despite the distance and falling out of communication, it's truly a magical thing <3

A Kind of Magic t. 6.7k. bokuto and akaashi often hang out at bokuto's house until akaashi invites him over and introduces him to his incredibly large and wild family. beautiful, beautiful prose and gradual realization of feelings. we stan family members as their cheerleaders.

heavy heart, a love apart e. 7k. exes to lovers. this oozed with angst and heavy hearts with tension that is eventually resolved for a hopeful ending. loved the atmosphere created by the prose.

iwaoi

yes-man t. 4.1k. no matter what oikawa asks of iwa, he always says yes, including a spontaneous weekend trip to las vegas. very cute and fluffy!

Pretty Boy t. 8k. oikawa is used to iwa's range of nicknames for him, but when iwa starts calling him pretty boy, well. that changes things. fluffy, cute, and lighthearted!

shoelaces and departures t. 10.1k. 2/2. magical realism au where iwa runs a cafe and oikawa is compelled to travel to different corners of the world because of his innate wanderlust. mutual pining at its finest with fluff.

rise e. 12.4k. oikawa and iwa live together after high school but don't have a label on their relationship. something else that this fic focuses is on the push-pull aspect they have, especially with oikawa's knee injury. the hurt/comfort hit me where it hurt.

When I Fall to My Feet e. 23.2k. 3/3. trans oikawa is looking for someone to overwrite his terrible first time, and eventually iwa offers to do it. fwb to lovers, with a sprinkle of makki and mattsun friendship, and a wonderfully supportive iwa.

other

The MSBY Black Jackals Guide To Self-Care t. 4.5k. sakusa-centric. a cute little fic of sakusa learning about his teammates' various self-care routines.

Off the Hinges t. 15.9k. arankita, sakuatsu. kita adopts sakusa since he's a kouhai in the same business program as him while watching him develop his relationship with atsumu. kita also takes a page from his own book with his relationship with aran. cute and endearing. my first arankita fic and i hope it won't be my last.

i remember how the earth stopped turning t. 73.3k. 6/6. kageyama-centric. man. man. it's an amazing read that focuses on the immediate post-career ending injury and intertwines povs from other characters. gorgeous prose. give it a read, seriously.

Yamaguchi Tadashi is NOT a ghost hunter m. 77.9k. 23/23. tsukkiyama. the house that tskushima, kuroo, and bokuto rent in osaka is haunted, and hinata recommends yamaguchi, a spirit medium, to help them. the slow burn!! the mystery!! the details!! i very much enjoyed this <3

[wintrsfell]

You've still got it, I'm just keeping an eye

Headlock masterlist

Previous chapter - Next chapter

Synopsis: After five years away from Winterfell, the reader returns to serve on Cregan's council. Old rivalries and new feelings arise.

Pairings: Cregan Stark & AFAB!Hornwood!Reader

Word count: 2713

Warnings: mentions of the death of a parent, reader is described as 'a woman' and 'a girl' (gender roles are a part of the story), like truly childish at times inner monologue from the reader (we support women's rights and wrongs on this blog)

Notes: getting into it a bit more with a few flashback- type scenes and some of the background as to why Cregan and the reader do not get along. While not written in first person, the fic is mainly for the reader's perspective, and her insecurities make her a bit of an unreliable narrator when it comes to Cregan (she is full on annoying in this, idk what to tell you). I kind of hate the pov but i'm committed now. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! Thank you so much for reading the first part, reblogging and commenting<3 (ily). This isn't edited, I've been hungover for like three days and I'm starting to think it's just the flu

The low winter sun starts creeping over the mountains in the East, coming through the window of her chambers and slowly coaxing her from slumber. The light is blinding, making her eyes burn as she blearily blinks them open. Sleep clouds her mind, and for a moment, she does not know where she is. Then, it all comes creeping in. The soft furs against her skin, the familiar crackling of the fire just feet away, the distinct smell of pine and woodsmoke. Her chambers at Winterfell. The very ones she had occupied from ages eight through her late teens. She has not slept so well in years.

The morning routine she follows is familiar. The never-ending struggle with her corset, the braiding of her hair, and the stillness of Winterfell’s thick stone walls all lend themselves to the sense of peace that settles over her. The Lord of the Castle may be an ever-present irritation, but the keep itself feels like a warm hug—like coming home after a long journey.

The castle is quiet as she makes her way down to the smaller hall beside the great hall, where meals are most often taken. The sound of her boots hitting the floor echoes between the stone walls, too loud in the silence. It grates on her ears. Perhaps time is playing a trick on her mind, but she never remembered Winterfell as being this quiet. In her childhood, idealized as it may have become by the years that have passed, the keep was always bustling with life. She remembers running through the halls with Cley and Cregan; days spent exploring the Wolfswood during that one particularly long summer they had gotten when they were ten, remembers Lord Rickon always allowing them to stay at the feasts for just a bit longer than children were usually allowed to. Everything had seemed so alive then, so bright and full of life.

Now, the stillness was almost eerie. 

Stepping into the hall, her gaze flits across the room. One long trestle table sits in the center, and servants are already moving about quietly to set up the morning meal. A fire crackles steadily in the heart on the far wall, casting a warm glow in the otherwise cold hall. For a moment, she stands completely still, resisting the urge to squeeze her eyes shut against the onslaught of memories.

A shuddering breath is taken as she steels herself, small steps carrying her toward a chair near the end of the table. After pouring a cup of tea, she cradles the hot ceramic in her hands, letting it warm her frozen fingers. No one else seems to be awake at this hour, and the moment of peace is somewhere between welcome and unsettling.

Heavy steps against the flagstones draw her gaze to the tall wooden doors leading into the hall. Cregan walks with measured movements, everything about him practiced and precise. His eyes flit across the room, much like hers had done earlier, and narrow slightly as they land on her seated form. There is something intense in his gaze, something almost assessing.

She breaks eye contact first, and somehow, it feels like a loss. We are not playing a game, she reminds herself sternly, there are no winners or losers. Taking another bite of her porridge, she straightens up in her seat. He will not see her be thrown off balance by his presence.

Cregan averts his eyes, and the absence of that intimidating stare makes her let out a quiet breath of relief. It is far too early to bicker with him. Taking a seat on the other end of the table, he starts filling his plate with food, still not looking at her. She eats hers quicker, but cannot help herself from studying him discretely out of the corner of her eye.

His face is a mask of stone, stern and impassive. He looks every inch the formidable northern lord, the sharp angles of his face highlighted clearly in the early morning light. 

She remembers when he had started looking different, when the rounder face of his youth had started turning into the serious face of a man. How she had mentally kicked herself every time her eyes had lingered a little too long on his newly broadened shoulders. It had only been driven by proximity, by the changes of growing from a girl into a woman, but it had been persistent nonetheless.

At times, he had caught her staring. The first time, his brows had drawn together as if confused, a barely perceptible reaction on his otherwise unreadable expression. Then, the ghost of a smirk had tugged at the corner of his lips, eyebrow raising ever so slightly. She had looked away quickly, mentally preparing herself for some annoying remark from him, but it never came. Instead, he had lingered in the library for a moment too long, before making sure his shoulder brushed against hers as he walked past her and out of the room. Only to unsettle her, she was sure. She had avoided him for a week after that, hoping time would make him forget about the encounter, make him forget to tease her about it.

The older Cregan seemed more subdued, less likely to throw out remarks made only to irritate her. Yet there was something in the way he looked at her sometimes, something that made her feel like he remembered their childhood quarrels just as well as she did. 

She pushes her plate away, smoothing out the skirts of her dress on habit as she rises from the table. The steps carrying her towards the door are a tad too quick, and she cringes when she feels Cregan’s intense stare burning into the back of her head. Just as she is about to step through the doors, there is a deep call of her name. Her name, not her title.

She turns, schooling her expression into something neutral as she meets Cregan’s grey eyes. Stormy, as usual. “Aye?”

His eyes move across her features for just a moment before saying, “The council meeting is at noon.”

She blinks at him, her mind struggling to process the fact that he is telling her something actually helpful. Of course, she already knew when the council meeting was. She had asked Cley about it yesterday and written it down. Twice.

Realizing that she is staring at him, quite foolishly, she quickly straightens up, trying to school her features into something resembling a politely neutral expression. She fears it is more of a grimace. “Right. Thank you.” She hesitates for another moment, before adding. “Cregan.”

She ignores how odd his name sounds on her lips after all these years as she turns to walk out of the hall. She forces herself to take slower steps this time.

Cregan Stark has gotten more handsome in the intervening years, she notes with ire, as he lists off the topics of the day’s council meeting. He sits at the head of the table, back straight yet still looking perfectly at ease. She had always envied him that, the ease with which he seemed to move through life. More annoying still, is that he is not even cocky about it. In their youth he could be incessant in his need to prove himself, certainly- but something changes the year after Lord Rickon died. 

He had grown more somber, every word and decision weighed carefully. Where she and Clay could still dissolve into fits of laughter, the most he gave was the ghost of a smile upon the stern set of his mouth. The only times he seemed truly entertained were in the few instances when he still took the time to bother her.

The year they turned six-and-ten, he started outright teasing her. Not in the friendly, casual way that Cley did, but in a nearly condescending tone of voice. She had hated how it always made her face heat. Up until then, he had rarely managed to throw her off balance, but it was as if a switch had been flicked. As if he’d suddenly solved the puzzle of robbing her of any clever remarks.

They had been in the library tower that first time, and upon later reflection, she decided that perhaps that particular part of the keep was cursed. Most of her embarrassing moments with the young Lord of Winterfell had happened there.

She and Cley had been arguing about something or other that she cannot recall now. The year in which some king had died, likely, and Cregan had corrected her in a lazy drawl that made anger bubble up within her chest. She had huffed, glaring daggers at him, and nearly exploded when he only looked up at her, slightly bemused.

She had stood from the table abruptly, moving to put her book back on its shelf, only to realize that the shelf was too high up. She could not reach it. The stupid, bloody keep was built for giants. It was the final straw, and she turned to glare at him again, biting out, “Gods, Cregan, must you always be so insufferable?”

Cley had laughed, but Cregan had only stood, coming to stand behind her in two long strides. He took the book from her hands, nearly making her jump as his fingers brushed hers, and put it back in its place. How did he even remember which shelf it was supposed to be on? Once again, he had to be annoyingly good at everything. Or had he been watching her? The motion made his chest brush against her back, and at the same time he nearly coos, “Aww, that’s not nice, my lady.”

His proximity, mixed with the uncharacteristically soft tone of his deep, accented voice, had made her face feel like it was on fire. Her mouth opened and shut at the same time as he stepped back, looking insufferably pleased with himself. 

She had scrambled out of the library so quickly that she left her cloak behind.

Looking at him now, she couldn’t imagine him doing such a thing. He seemed so serious, so grown, in comparison to her. Most days, she still felt like she was barely keeping her head above water. The incessant need to prove herself that both she and Cregan had felt in their youths, that had made them clash so frequently- now seems to have left him entirely.

She still feels its itch clawing beneath her skin, as she sits at a table surrounded by men. Cregan and Cley were her age, but she feels little kinship with the man Cregan has turned into. His quiet capability, the infuriatingly subtle self-assuredness, the way he spoke so little yet with so much weight, all stood in stark contrast to the way she wanted to speak up just to prove that she belonged there. To prove that while she was not a man, she was just as clever. Perhaps just to prove that she has something to say.

It had plagued her in their youths, and perhaps it is also why Cregan’s need to be right had been so frustrating to her. Cley never seemed to mind, only rolling his eyes in a good-natured manner whenever Cregan was too obvious about it. But to her, it had been like a confirmation that she would never measure up, this need to correct her. These two boys, who were growing up alongside her, got the same education as she did- would get to use it for something. They would be lords, ruling over castles, making decisions, making a difference. She would only be somebody’s wife. The thought of them not thinking of her as clever had made her feel physically ill at times.

Still, she bites her tongue as Winterfell’s steward gives them an update about the state of the harvest. She was trying to learn the art of not speaking unless she had something important to say, of resisting the urge to point out the obvious. It was a childish thing, one that had no place in councils such as this.

The meeting goes on, and for a long time, it is mostly just Cregan and the steward updating them about the state of affairs in the North. Part of her wonders if it is for her benefit, for she can feel Cregan watching her intently from across the table. As if he needs to make sure she is grasping the facts that are being laid out. It makes her sit up straighter, and her mouth pressing into a thin line. Does he truly believe that she cannot comprehend even simple council matters?

The overview is helpful, even if she loathes to admit it. She could have figured it out on her own, she insists quietly to no one but herself. She could have asked Maester Kennet. In fact, she had been planning to. 

Still, perhaps it is nice that she won’t have to.

She can feel Cregan’s eyes boring into her as her quill scratches quick words across the parchment. Maester Kennet is the only other person in the council meeting who is taking notes, and the elderly man has barely written down ten. She has written down hundreds, her wrist aching from writing so furiously, straining to get every word down on paper. She liked taking notes, liked feeling prepared, but it also proved to be an excellent excuse to avoid Cregan’s penetrating gaze. 

The meeting came to an end. She did not know if she was proud of herself for managing to keep her mouth shut, or regretful that she had not contributed anything useful. No one else had spoken either, but this was her first time in the council. She felt she had something to prove, the itch of it clawing at her like something stuck under her skin, trying to get out.

She feels ill at ease as she gathers up her notes into a neat stack, ignoring Cley’s amused expression at her childhood habit still lingering. The other lords file out of the room slowly, leaving behind only her and Cregan. Clutching the stack of notes to her chest, she moves to step out of the room, only to once again have to turn back around at a call of her name.

She turns to face the Lord of Winterfell, wondering if his gaze has left her at all for the past two hours. His features seem to be stuck in a perpetual frown, dark eyebrows drawn together slightly as his eyes meet hers. She resists the urge to look away from his penetrating stare.

“You take a lot of notes,” His deep voice rumbles, eyes flitting down to the parchments clutched at her chest before moving back up to lock onto hers.

Her brows draw together slightly as she hesitates on how to respond. It was a statement, not a question. “I- aye. I do.”

“Why?” Cregan’s tone is surprisingly light, or as light as such a deep voice can be. He sounds almost- genuinely curious. Surely he remembers her doing it since their childhoods. He was always watching, even then.

Because I don’t fancy spending a three-hour long council meeting having a staring competition with you. She manages to bite back that reply, just barely. Instead, she shrugs, her tone matching his. “Makes it easier to remember things.”

To her surprise, he huffs out something that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. His head tilts slightly to the side, and he breaks eye contact for the first time since their conversation began, only briefly, before meeting her eyes again. “You never had an issue remembering things, my lady.” His tone is dry, which she expected. But there is something else there, something nearly warm. Nostalgia, perhaps. Respect, if she is being optimistic.

“Because of the notes,” She insists wryly, brows drawing together briefly at his amusement. At his almost-compliment.

“Right,” Cregan nods, still sounding amused. He does not seem bothered by the slightly awkward, stilted nature of their conversation. If anything, he seems perfectly at ease.

“Right,” She echoes, holding his gaze for a long moment before stepping back with a nod. She turns to leave the room and swears that she sees the ghost of a smile lingering upon his features.

[st4r-struckz]

i've been lurking around the rosekiller tag for a long while and i see a lot of people asking for rosekiller-centric fic recs, so if anyone cares here's my hand-picked list of rosekiller fic recs. this includes a lot of the popular ones but also some less-popular and very underrated ones (i think). anyways hopefully i'm doing this right cuz i've never posted on here before soo pls be kind if i make a mistake abt something idk.

this includes both long/multi-chapter fics and one shots btw.

also be warned; this is pretty long even though i tried to keep things short-ish (but i can't help it these are all such good fics i have to talk about them!!!). if you want the rough-ish approximation of this list in the form of a spreadsheet with more details (me ranting about how much i love these fics), click here.

LONG FICS (or basically just more than 1 chapter fics)

why do stars fall down from the sky, every time that you walk by by ricecake_13 (E, 117k, 17/?) this is actually my favorite ongoing rosekiller fic ever oh my god, it's a modern high school au with lots of povs and ships though rosekiller is the main one. beautifully written, gorgeous plot/pacing, amazing characterization, incredibly underrated, please read this it's a masterpiece.

The Blood of Hyacinthus by writingamarie (M, 175k, 14/20) another one of my fav ongoing fics, it's a canon compliant rosekiller fic (ravenclaw barty my beloved!!!) starting from first year all throughout the war. this is probably the best portrayal of canon compliant rosekiller i've seen, they aren't portrayed as poor kids who got roped into the war, they made their own decisions, and i love it so much.

Just Deserts by paletragedycat (M, 700k, 43/?) i'm at around like chapter 10 of this absolute beast of a fic and i am begging you guys to give this fic more attention. it's absolutely incredibly written with a fantastic plot, gorgeous characterization, this fic is absolutely insane like. this deserves to be like the crimson rivers of rosekiller. the plot is lowkey kinda hard to explain but umm. some of them are detectives, some of them are bodyguards, some of them are criminals. super cool. this fic is actually just so so impressive and so incredibly underrated it hurts.

sun tea in the summer by cademygod (NR, 44k, 10/12) this is THE rosekiller coming of age story i swear, modern au that starts when they're kids and each chapter they age 1 year, super cute and fluffy, i am such a sucker for childhood friends to lovers tropes omg.

Evan Rosier and the Unbearable Weight of his Own Decisions by Mywifeisaworm (E, 145k, 35/?) another great portrayal of canon compliant rosekiller, i really love how this one features all the slytherins we typically don't like (snape, mulciber, wilkes, etc.) bc it makes this fic feel even more realistic. this is a super awesome take on canon rosekiller and i love it.

Head Over Feet by sanguinerose (E, 136k, 27/27) i'm sure you guys have heard of this one but it's a modern au, super great, it's everything i've ever wanted from a rosekiller high school au. and evan is french btw god i love french evan rosier so much.

PRETTY BOY by IvyCore (E, 96k, 10/10) this is part of a series, the first part is SUGAR HIGH which is a jegulus fic but honestly this can probably?? be read without reading that one first (even though i still super recommend it). barty is a sex worker and a pianist and evan is a restaurant owner and this is just so so good omg.

intermission by bizarrestars (M, 43k, 4/4) very sure you all have heard of this fic (and for good reason too, it's fantastic) but in case you haven't it's a no voldemort au but still at hogwarts and in the same universe as just lovers (jegulus, also amazing, like the second marauders fic i read i think). this is so sweet and fluffy and cute and this fic is what got me into rosekiller i think soo yeah.

Tug by pressedink (E, 70k, 12/?) rosekiller dating app au where they pair two strangers together in an apartment and they can do whatever except they can't kiss or else they can never seen each other again. except barty and evan are not strangers. i loove this fic, and it's super smutty if that's up your alley. (did i use that phrase right? i feel like i didn't but whatever.)

Beneath the Mask by orphan_account (T, 105k, 44/44) okay this one is a really interesting concept, it's broken up into two timelines: one following them during their hogwarts years and the other following evan while he navigates life after the wizarding war. idk it's a bit hard to explain but. you'll see. so yeah all the war stuff does happen but they both survive afterwards. i really enjoyed this, it was a really interesting take on the whole war situation.

A Truthful Joke by justreadandwritex (T, 30k, 9/9) best friends to lovers au set at hogwarts but idk if voldemort exists (if he does he's not mentioned). just rosekiller being incredibly stupid and cute and oblivious.

Straight A's by stargirly161 (T, 32k, 14/14) academic rivals to lovers rosekiller oh my god i need to see more of them. another pretty popular one and understandably so because it's amazing in every aspect, i've reread this one like 3 times.

Ant Pile by sommerregenjuniluft (E, 21k, 2/2) super super amazing rosekiller coming of age fic and childhood best friends to lovers, god i love this fic. the story starts when they're little kids and it is the most adorable thing ever and ends when they're like 18 and it's just. so good. please read it.

having a ghost in my bed by v7lgar (E, 42k, 3/3) modern au and okayyy wow this is legit just smut all the way through and WOW is it something, this is like some of the best rosekiller smut i've read. if you're just looking for some smut this is the place to look.

I'm Not Gonna Teach Him How to Dance with You by greensenne (M, 122k, 18/18) you've probably heard of this one but i'm still including it, this is set post-hogwarts (so there's still magic i think) but it's a no voldemort au. basically barty's getting married and evan is his best man except Feelings get in the way. very very cute, quite slow burn but it's very worth it.

Tender Curiosities, Baby! by otrtbs (M, 79k, 6/6) ahh another popular one, it's in the same universe as art heist, baby! which you have probably definitely heard of (it's a fantastic jegulus art heist fic). anywayss yeah this fic focuses on rosekiller and it is so so good, idk if it can be read as a standalone though...cause there are a lot of references to ahb!

Rock Bottom by floretissogay (T, 7.9k, 10/10) super super cute and fluffy rosekiller texting fic, there's like zero angst it's literally just fluff and silliness.

Off the Edge of the Earth, and Farther Still by typhoid_fluu (M, 17k, 11/?) this one hasn't been updated in a while buut it's a canon compliant rosekiller au following them throughout hogwarts starting from first year. super cute, at least so far (cuz they're still in first year).

annoying by facestraightoutamagazine (M, 101k, 31/31) another great texting fic, it's a wrong number au and goddd i'm a sucker for those. this one has like minimal angst, it's all just vibes and silliness, it's super cute and funny and i've reread this one like 3 times.

Say Something by writingamarie (E, 43k, 12/12) PLEASE give this fic more attention i am begging. it's incredible in every aspect - the writing, the characterization, the pacing (especially the pacing omg you'll see what i mean when you read this fic), everything. rosekiller friends with benefits will always be my favorite. please guys just please this fic is so underrated it hurts.

bad idea, right? by sparklejumpropequeen79 (NR, 30k, 13/?) this fic got discontinued but i really liked it while i was reading it so i'm still mentioning it in case you don't mind reading fics that won't be finished? idk. no voldemort au where barty and evan are really stupid about their feelings. typical rosekiller stuff.

kiss him you fool. by everlovelymoony (M, 8k, 4/4) this fic is so goddamn cute i actually can't. barty is a kindergarten teacher and luna is in his class and evan is luna's uncle. can we please please have more rosekiller teacher AUs please.

Obsessed by andromeden (E, 40k, 2/2) barty stalks his boyfriend's ex and uhh yeah. this is 40k words of barty and evan being incredibly fucked up and also made for each other. rosekiller at their finest, you know. probably mind the tags though.

Ashes to Ashes by lupinist (M, 13k, 3/3) rosekiller friends to lovers never gets old. very well written, amazing dynamic and characterization, super underrated!

a rose will be for a rose (timelessness for your love) by iWrite (T, 6.8k, 2/2) rosekiller spin the bottle and being dumbasses about their feelings. only a light bit of angst, super cute, love it.

show me those pretty white jaws by 214lilacsky (E, 144k, 15/15) recently started reading this one and i do not know what took me so long because holy shit the writing is beautiful, the characterization is beautiful, just like. this whole fic. beautiful. wow. this is a fairly popular one i think and i absolutely see why.

Pickup or Delivery by lifeisabitch (E, 41k, 15/15) this is so so good, i am absolutely obsessed with their characterization and dynamic here. they are absolute freaks and i am living for it.

i would say i love you (but it's so hard, i won't say it at all) by avesgraveyard (M, 74k, 9/?) road trip au with a bunch of other marauders characters, this is super super cute and evan and barty are incredibly bad at feelings (as they always are) and i just. love this so much. i've reread this one many times before.

with a taste of your lips im on a run by siriusstardust (G, 6.9k, 2/?) wrong number rosekiller au that i am really really enjoying so far, it's super cute and funny and silly.

ONE-SHOTS

no one’s gonna say anything against a dude kissing his homie good luck by sommerregenjuniluft (M, 3k) literally the title, they're skateboarding, uhhh yeah. i really like the vibes of this fic, evan and barty are dumbass teenagers who are toootally just platonic, which is honestly my favorite version of rosekiller.

loving you (is the antidote) by serendipitysirius (M, 13k) amortentia fic, sue me i'm a sucker for those. it is canon compliant but voldemort and the war aren't really mentioned.

don’t want none of this (good times, all the time) by cheeryknots (M, 3.9k) one of my fav rosekiller one shots, i swear i reread this like once every two months lol. it's set at hogwarts and they're at a party and they play spin the bottle and they get Jealous and it's just! so good.

Holding My Heart Out In Shaking Hands by twoclosetothestars (NR, 9k) modern au, i read this one a while ago but i remember really enjoying it. this one has it all; smut, angst, and fluff (in that order).

most fun i ever had (i did something bad) by cheeryknots (E, 5k) this is an incredible work of art holy shit. there's also a second part to this series (the series is appropriately named rosekiller murder husbands) that i also adore so check that one out too. this is legit just smut and rosekiller being absolutely insane and very much in love and i love it so much they are freaks your honor.

ghosting by dracure (E, 5.3k) evan and james are together in this one (not for long after the events in this fic though lmao).

my way or the highway by heartnipnops (E, 6.1k) car sex!!! yay. yeah idk what else to say this is great smut uhh yeah.

Shotgun by DayDreamingQueen (E, 3.1k) more rosekiller car sex (more specifically blowjob). except they aren't even together in this one. how do you literally suck your friend off in a car and just. go on with your life. they are actually so stupid it's astounding. great fic though.

16 missed calls by katakosmos (E, 1.9k) i think i'm actually a little insane for age gap rosekiller idk. been stalking the rosekiller tag on here for long enough to know you all are too. so if you haven't seen this..

the best of you, honey, belongs to me by vianexa (E, 7.7k) rosekiller murder husbands with a whole lot of sexual tension except no actual smut happens (it's crazy), god i do love insane batshit crazy rosekiller.

sharpshooter by heartnipnops (E, 4.7k) A+ rosekiller smut, college/university au.

everybody plays the beautiful game while out in brazil by bloodytreason (T, 3.4k) au where evan is an olympic tennis player. this au is something i did not know i needed, like this is gold (wait that pun was not intended oops wait does that even count as a pun), i need more olympics AUs now.

The Way He Loves by wiggentree (T, 4k) i have reread this one countless times over and over, this is one of the first rosekiller fics i read and i will never stop coming back to it. so so good. i think it captures their dynamic really well and i am just. obsessed.

a rose will i bloom in my soul by iWrite (E, 5.5k) holy hell this is actually so good i might actually combust 100/10 rosekiller smut.

limbs by dracure, virginprayer (E, 2.2k) beautiful beautiful smut

sick, twisted, and selfish by jamespottermixtape (fushigayro) (E, 3k) rosekiller murder husbands my beloved they are insane i love them.

You are in love by rachel_elizabeth_truth (NR, 4.4k) this is so beautiful and lovely, it's based off of you are in love by taylor swift which is such a rosekiller coded song tbh.

aces up your sleeve by dracure (T, 1.6k) evan with a tongue piercing. i, like barty, would probably also go feral for that.

Call It What You Want by lxcuxex (T, 23k) clueless, oblivious, idiots in love rosekiller my beloved. incredibly long oneshot about rosekiller trying to get their shit together. love to see it.

my lost lover (i was made for you) by jamespottermixtape (fushigayro) (E, 9.2k) oh my fucking god this is so great, i don't typically read a lot of vampire/supernatural fics but this one. absolutely wonderful.

Midnight Rain by blackmojito (T, 10k) christmas fic (though it's not the main focus), this is so sweet and cute and just so beautifully written oh my gosh.

second guessing by dracure (E, 8k) gorgeous amazing beautiful fantastic everything about this fic. just wonderful.

such a lovely place to die with you by cheeryknots (E, 4.3k) apocalyptic au where they meet at the end of the world, this is so so beautiful.

Eyeliner by aithusarosekiller (NR, 1.9k) evan helps barty get ready for a party by helping him apply eyeliner. honestly i do not blame evan at all i would have the same reaction seeing barty with eyeliner.

remember that night by orphan_account (G, 5.1k) some hurt/comfort about barty not remembering a drunken kiss. really really good omg.

Pretty Cool by trinavera (G, 4k) very very cute high school au where they meet in detention (evan is the detention monitor).

Me and You by polyjuicedpadfoot (E, 8.8k) oh my goshhh i really really like this one, it deals a bit with the war and them becoming death eaters and stuff. super great.

Something of Mine by stoned_regulus (M, 5.3k) rosekiller post breakup, it deals with Feelings and some drug abuse stuff. it's pretty angsty but really good.

speak now (or forever hold your peace) by rweoutofthewoods (T, 3.7k) this is like equal parts rosekiller and jegulus but anyways. yeah james and evan crash regulus and barty's wedding.

like smoke behind glass by 214lilacsky (E, 4.6k) i am definitely super normal about this fic (no i am not i love this oneshot with my whole being it's one of my favorites).

when the heart would cease (ours never knew peace) by boundinchaos (T, 12.5k) au where evan doesn't actually die, but barty still goes to azkaban. also after reading this fic i desperately need more fics about barty and sirius interacting in azkaban.

AND LASTLY...SOME STUFF ON MY TBR LIST

i haven't gotten around to reading these ones yet but i really want to soo yeah. check these out if you want!

we can take it out back by roadsidehorror (E, 78k, 9/9)

Run, Baby, Run by saltywench (E, 16k, 10/10)

Nothing On You by the_brightest_star_in_leo (T, 1k, 1/1)

i desire violently- and wait by archivistrose (cursedstar) (M, 53k, 16/?)

He's Not Mine (but he could be) by the_brightest_star_in_leo (E, 18k, 6/6)

Silencing the Monster by Written_Willis (E, 7.7k, 1/1)

stoned off you (now i'm stone cold sober) by 214lilacsky (E, 30k, 1/1)

Persistence by stellar_jay (E, 11k, 1/1)

sacrosanct by vanity_scribblings (M, 6.3k, 1/1)

okay yeah this is all, i probably will never post on tumblr again and will go back to lurking after this lmao. if you're still reading this i hope?? you enjoyed?? yeah that's it byee feel free to drop some more recs (in the replies? idk how tumblr works lowkey😭) cause i'm always on the lookout for more of these two🙏

[spooky-holtz]

Sicilian Scheming

Melissa Schemmenti x reader

Genre: pure fluff

Word Count: 3.4k

Prompt: "I seen you were looking for ideas for fics and was wondering if you’d write one where Mellisa’s Nona comes to visit her at Abbot during summer planning where she meets teacher Reader and essentially forces them to go on a date together even though they don’t get along well but they end up really hitting it off then a time skip to their wedding where Nona’s bragging about getting them together?"

I've diverted from the prompt a little but the core of it still stands. Strap in.

--------------------

Make no mistake, you absolutely love teaching the third grade but by the time summer comes around, you’re glad to see them go. Summer vacation gives you a chance to relax and enjoy your time away from the stuffy brick building that is Abbott Elementary, spending weeks at a time curled up on the window ledge of your apartment basking in the sun with a good novel and often a crisp glass of wine.  

You rarely get chance to see your co-workers save for the coffee dates you have with Janine, often meeting the smaller woman around the corner from her home to sit and chat in the large glass windows as the rest of the world passes by. You spend hours at a time chatting about anything and everything your rather uneventful lives have thrown at you, fingers curled around a sweating glass of flavored iced tea. These breaks are always among the highlights of your year, giving you a chance to wind down and refresh ready for the next group of kids that you will take under your wing.  

By the time the summer break winds down though, you’re eager to get back to school and see your dysfunctional work family. There’s nothing you love more than the first day after weeks apart, hearing all about Barbra’s annual cruise with Gerald, or Jacob’s latest mission to get himself “down with the kids” - it usually involves some god awful Tik Tok trend that he should NOT be doing, but you don’t have the heart to stop his rather spirited approach to engaging with his students.  

You love these conversations but there is somebody else that you find yourself searching for the second you step foot through the green doors of Abbott; Mellisa Schemmenti. The older woman has become an infatuation for you, her rigid exterior always melting when you interact. She knows exactly how you take your coffee, always leaves a seat open for you during meetings, and takes every opportunity to compliment your appearance - whether it's a new pair of earrings, or a slightly different shade of hair dye, Melissa will always notice.  

She makes you feel special in the smallest ways, always leaving you with the hope that she might actually like you back. It feels juvenile and you can’t help but imagine yourself as one of the kids you teach every day, sending heart eyes across the room at each other at any given chance, just waiting for her cheeks to flush and that small, suppressed smile to appear on her glossed lips.  

Your crush is no secret, but you would never tell anyone - well, except Janine who had managed to guess exactly why you get so nervous around the older woman after a few glasses of wine at the last faculty holiday party. You didn’t have to say anything; your longing looks toward the redhead on the other side of the teachers’ lounge as you nursed a plastic cup full of cheap alcohol was enough to prompt your friend to ask. You could never lie to Janine’s puppy dog eyes, especially not with a buzz courtesy of the liquor store across the street.  

You can’t help but let your thoughts drift toward thick Philly accents as you sit in the gym on the first day of school, squashed between Jacob and Janine and caught directly in the middle of their conversation about whatever new Netflix documentary series dropped last week. You’re really trying to listen, but your thoughts are consumed by bright red curls and glittery lip gloss, not true crime documentaries.  

You find yourself scanning the room as the pair babble on and you notice that the seating arrangement is half empty as you wait for the rest of the faculty to arrive and for Ava to take the stage for yet another development week speech that will go down in infamy at Abbott. She’s already poked her head from behind the curtain on the stage twice, clearly impatient to make her grand entrance to a group of less than willing participants.  

You begin to hear the telltale sound of heeled boots clicking against the linoleum floor and you feel yourself freezing into place just as Melissa waltzes into the hall, Barbara in tow. You don’t know if you’re impressed or terrified at her ability to constantly wear those shoes and the thought makes you realize that you’ve never actually seen Melissa at her normal height. 

Just as you suck in a deep breath, her eyes scan the room and instantly land where you sit, sandwiched between two of your rather enthusiastic co-workers. As her green eyes meet yours you see them shrink at the smile she sends your way, her pearly white teeth cutting through the shiny pink lip gloss she’s always wearing. You send a similar smile back, overjoyed at the fact she merely noticed you. God help your heart rate when she decides to talk to you for the first time in two months.  

Your attention is pulled away by Barbara, who waves enthusiastically from behind Melissa, making her way toward the empty seats directly in front of you. Your eyes dart back to Melissa as she follows the billowing of the older woman’s cardigan, heels still impossibly loud against the floor. 

The dark button down she’s sporting is tight against her torso, the sleeves rolled up to reveal her deceptively toned forearms. You have to remind yourself to look away for a split second, the thought of getting caught ogling her by one of your co-workers forcing you to tear your eyes away. You look toward Janine who has trailed off her conversation with Jacob, the pair watching you and Melissa like a tennis match. You feel your shoulders slump at Jacob’s knowing look, the excitement practically making him vibrate.  

“You’re kidding, you know too?” You sigh. 

“Uh yeah, you don’t exactly hide the heart eyes,” he scoffs. He must see the deer-in-headlights expression on your face because he continues, “I wouldn’t worry, she was definitely just throwing them right back at you.” 

You have no time to reply as the subject of the conversation reaches the row of seats in front of you, sitting in the hard plastic chair and turning her torso to see you, hand resting on the back of her seat. Her smile is wide again as she looks to you. The panic brews in your throat and your palms instantly become sweaty at the prospect of Melissa feeling the intensity of your feelings.  

“Hey hun, it’s been a while,” she says, her eyes still crinkled from the smile she wears. Her focus is entirely on you, ignoring the duo that sits on either of your sides.  

“Yeah, it has,” you manage to stammer out, “How’ve you been? You look good.”  

You inwardly cringe at your words but you’re not lying. She’s obviously had her hair dyed ready for the new school year and it’s even brighter than usual, making her even easier for you to pick out of a crowd. She looks so full of life and at ease, the break clearly having done her well. Her smile grows impossibly wider at your compliment, putting you instantly at ease.  

“It was great,” she replies. “Spent a lotta time at the beach with my family, so I’m not as pasty as you may have remembered.” 

She throws a wink your way with the last statement, causing a pink blush to cover your cheeks within seconds. What you wouldn’t give to actually see Melissa at the beach, totally relaxed on a sun lounger with a drink in hand. The image turns your cheeks an even deeper shade of red and Mel clearly catches on, her smirk letting you know that she knows exactly where your thoughts have gone.  

Before you even have chance to reply, Ava makes her grand entrance from behind the curtain to a chorus of groans that echos throughout the room.  

You can feel Janine’s elbow nudging into your side, your friend having had a front row seat to your entire interaction with the redhead. The action earns her a swift kick to the ankle under her seat, accompanied by a hissed “don’t you dare”.  

The meeting is over almost as quickly as it begins, Ava rushing back to her office to catch the latest episode of Real Housewives - she didn’t explicitly say it but you all know that’s the only reason she would be running back down the hall. You won’t complain though because it means you can get started with your work to prepare your classroom for the year ahead. You stand from your seat alongside Jacob and Janine and have all intentions of getting back to work when Melissa turns around again. Her emerald eyes stop you in your tracks, mid-stretch, your arms flexed above your head.  

“I never got the chance to tell you earlier, but I really like your dress,” she says, completely catching you off guard. Your hands fall, hanging limply by your side and brushing against the floral fabric of your clothing. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wear it specifically to catch her eye this morning. The soft smile she wears on her face makes your heart melt, the look on her face only reserved for you. “It's real pretty.” 

You both stand there for a few seconds, blushing like lovesick teenagers and staring into each other's eyes when a throat clearing brings you back to reality. Janine claps her hands together, flustered by the interaction.  

“Okay, I’m gonna get back to my classroom and, uh, get started on cleaning. Have a good day guys!” She calls as she walks away with Jacob in tow, enthusiastic as ever as he throws a thumbs up your way. You know that within five minutes of leaving the school gym she’ll be in your classroom waiting for the rundown on what the hell just happened between you and Melissa, as if she didn’t see it all happen from inches away. At this rate, you wouldn’t be surprised if Jacob shows up with a bag of popcorn to join in with the gossip session.  

“Oh shit, yeah, I need to clean before Nonna shows up,” Melissa mumbles, “I don’t wanna even think about the earful I’ll get if my classroom is a mess.” She doesn’t even stop to think before she turns on her heel and practically runs out of the gym and down the hall toward her classroom. You don’t have time to process her words before her best friend speaks.  

“Well, I guess that just leaves us,” Barbara says from her place next to where the redhead stood. She wears a gentle smile on her face that will always help you feel at ease. She reaches her arm out to you, linking your arm within hers as she turns to walk. “Come on honey, I’ll walk you to your room and tell you all about the cruise I had with my Gerald.”  

After a rather lengthy conversation about ‘Sea Barbara’ and her less-than-christian antics, you’re back at your door for the first time in months and can’t help but feel like you’re home. Nobody particularly likes their job but that couldn’t be further from the truth for you. Already, you’ve planned out the next year and can’t wait to welcome your little Eagles back into the classroom.  

It’s a full hour later by the time you actually hear another person’s voice - Janine chose to keep her distance but will no doubt grill you about Melissa at some point today. It’s just a matter of when.  

You hear the signature clicking of her heels before you can see her, her footsteps considerably slower than usual. You can hear her talking as she walks, though you can’t make you exactly what she’s saying. The footsteps grow louder and slower before you hear a knock against your doorframe, the door propped open by a thick stack of textbooks that you’ve wedged in front of it in a desperate attempt to get some airflow in the stuffy room.  

The sound makes you whip your head from where you stand on your stepladder, stapler and crepe paper in hand as you put together a display for the kids. You know exactly who will be standing there, already smiling as you turn and meet her eyes.  

“Hey Hun,” she says, “I’ve got someone here who wanted to really meet you.”  

For the first time you notice the presence beside her. You don’t need to take any guesses that this is Melissa’s infamous Nonna, the older woman clearly having stamped her grandchildren with her genes - she looks exactly how you imagine Melissa would in her old age, her hair silver and leaning gently on a cane.  

“Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti!” she exclaims, making you jump and stand up straighter, terrified at the prospect of already being on her bad side. You climb down from the ladder as she stares at you, smoothing your hands down the front of your dress in an effort to get rid of any creases that may have formed during the morning. “You said she was pretty, but not this pretty!”  

You feel your shoulders relax as you laugh at the older woman, taken aback, Melissa by the side of her groaning loudly with a “Nonna, really?” You move toward the pair holding your hand out to shake the wrinkled one of the grey-haired lady before you. Her fingers are adorned by the same kind of jewelry that Melissa wears, her Sicilian heritage extremely clear from the large signet rings that she wears across her hands.  

“And there’s no mistaking that you must be Nonna,” you grin, introducing yourself. “I’ve heard a lot about you. You’re like a living legend around here.” She closes her hand around yours, the other still gripping her cane.  

“Pretty and complimentary?” She remarks, turning to look at her granddaughter whose face has managed to turn the same colour as her hair. “Well, you kept a lot quiet about this one.” 

You can’t help but look at Melissa at this statement, catching her eye and smiling even wider, Nonna’s remarks already making your grin impossibly wide. Her brow relaxes itself slightly, the hard lines around her eyes softening when she sees the pure joy on your face at finally getting to meet the woman you’ve heard so much about over the last few years.  

“I’m not sure if I want to hear exactly what you know about me,” you joke to her, catching Melissa’s eye yet again. The poor woman looks unbelievably flustered but it's a welcome change in your dynamic. She usually gets to revel in the fact that you turn into a puddle in her presence, but now you can only hope to add to the quickly darkening hue of her cheeks.  

“Trust me, you do. This one doesn’t shut up about you,” she says, smiling slightly and cocking her head toward Melissa who is actively wishing that a sinkhole would open up beneath her feet. She lets go of your hand and moves further into the classroom, leaning ever so slightly on her stick but still moving with all the confidence of your favourite Schemmenti woman - at least you know where Melissa gets it from now.  

Your eyes dart to Melissa, the older woman already looking back at you with a silent apology in her eyes her teeth worrying her bottom lip. You reach out and rub the top of her arm over her shirt in a small act of comfort, letting her know that this entire situation is doing nothing but working in her favour.  

“Ya know, it’s nice seeing something other than my Melissa’s classroom or the reception desk at this school for once,” Nonna says, almost speaking to herself. She looks around the room almost in awe, taking in the displays in various degrees of completion around the room.  

You follow her further in, Melissa hot on your tail behind you. She’s so close that you feel her almost walk straight into your back as you stop closer to the older woman, her once intimidating heels stuttering slightly on the wooden floor.  

“So, tell me,” Nonna begins, turning in place to face you, “What brought a girl like you to Philly? I know you’re not a local.” Her eyes twinkle as she asks, and you have a sneaking suspicion that she already knows the answer to her question from the tales her granddaughter has seemingly told her about you.  

“I just wanted a change,” you answer honestly. “I only thought I’d be here a couple years, but it’s been five and I can’t see myself leaving any time soon.” 

At your statement you hear Melissa sigh by your side. As your head turns to meet her gaze you see just how much it softened at your words. She knows just how much you love your job and the dedication you’re willing to put into making sure these kids make it. Year after year she’s been the one to help you draft lesson plans and mark countless piles of work over a mug of coffee in the teachers’ lounge, helping you when you feel slightly out of your depth in more ways than she could imagine. 

It’s only when she’s this close to your face that you can see the glittering of her lip gloss as she smiles slightly, her lips pulled together in a look that conveys so much softness.  

“Do you like Italian food?” Nonna asks, breaking the tense silence that has fallen between you. You feel the redhead beside you jump, both of you completely forgetting that her grandmother is just meters away from your little moment. You can’t answer quick enough, crying out for her approval and hoping that you can focus back from the incredible green eyes that are currently burning into the side of your head.  

“Oh yeah, I absolutely love an Italian,” you stutter out, “Can’t get enough.” 

You inwardly cringe at your words as you hear Melissa snicker by your side, Nonna’s eyes twinkling with amusement again. You hear a quiet “Bedda Matri” from Melissa through the giggles that shake her body.  

“I bet ya do,” Nonna says, her grin revealing her impossibly pearly white teeth. You can feel yourself getting warmer and you’re not sure if it’s from the stuffiness of your classroom and its broken windows or from the pure embarrassment radiating through your system. “You know, I taught Melissa everything she knows about Italian food. Maybe if you’re nice she’ll cook for you sometime.” 

Nonna’s eyebrows are raised as you turn to meet Melissa’s eyes, the older woman shrugging in your direction. It's nice to know you aren’t the only person completely lost in this conversation.  

“Oh, I know!” Nonna exclaims, making the pair of you jump yet again, “Melissa, how about you cook this nice girl the family baked ziti tonight? Say, 7 o’clock?”  

“Uh sure, if you don’t have anything on?” Melissa says, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion once again.  

“No no, I’m totally free,” you stammer, your cheeks matching the deep red of your co-worker's hair. “I’ve got your address too.” 

“Wonderful!” Nonna almost shouts, her shrill voice echoing off the semi-bare walls of your classroom. “You’re going to love it, trust me.” She says, throwing a wink your way.  

You don’t particularly want to admit that the smaller woman is, but you do love it. So much so that two years later you’re twirling around a dance floor in a lacy white dress, Melissa in a matching getup and shiny new diamond rings on your left hands. As Billy Joel croons the chorus of ‘Just the Way You Are’ from the speakers set up around the room, you hear a familiar voice chirp up from a table just out of reach of the dance floor.  

“You know, they would never have gotten together if I hadn’t practically knocked their heads together,” Nonna says, her voice carrying over the song as she explains her matchmaking services to Melissa’s Uncle Tony. You feel Melissa grin where her cheek rests against yours, your expression matching hers as you hear the older woman carry on. “I’m telling you now Anthony, this wedding wouldn’t even be happening if it wasn’t for me.”  

You feel Melissa begin to giggle where she stands, her hands resting against the lace at the small of your back, thumbs rubbing gently against the surface as you sway together. You hear Nonna carry on, adamant that the life you’ve built wouldn’t be possible if not for her, and as much as you don’t want to give her satisfaction, you both know she’s right.  

[thoughtssvt]

geto suguru x depressed reader

cw : emotional hurt/comfort, mild depictions of the hidden parts of depression that nobody really wants to talk about - having trouble doing basic tasks (bathing)

your clothes felt a little too heavy. your eyelids. the little peach fuzz on your cheeks. the muscle rested against your tibia. they were all just a little too much to move.

you've been feeling this way for a few days.

despite the summer sun shining hot through the shutters of your bedroom window, yesterday's memories are clouded by grey skies. colors dull and muted. seventy-two hours gone by and you can't really remember what they were about. doom scrolling, sleeping definitely. there's a good chance you hadn't left your bed at all.

you were starting to feel gross. maybe the heaviness came with the oil that slicked the strands of your hair together or the dead skin that sat atop your forearm. god, why did it have to be like this? why couldn't you just get up and walk to the shower? why was it so hard?

you were in the same position you'd been in the last week when suguru found you. a few days of missions and a few more of concern until he decided that crossing a boundary would be worth it to see if you were okay. you'd given him a key, but he'd always been respectful of your space, never barging in uninvited until today.

you cringed at the way he cupped your face, his fingers and palm splayed against your greasy locks so he could sweep a stray strand from your forehead. he didn't mind, though. you know he didn't. he'd been there. but you couldn't help but shy away at the vulnerability. being in front of him like this.

he leaned in for a kiss and you shirked away. the most movement you've done in days. insecurity, guilt, shame. all piling on top of you. "I haven't showered in over a week, suguru." you'd said.

now you stood in the shower, curtain drawn as the cold tile froze the back of suguru's thighs and the protruding bones on his ankles blushed an angry red at the pressure he put on them sitting crisscrossed on your bathroom floor, his back to the shower.

"i'll sit with you and we can just... talk." he'd said it so gently, a small smile on his face. his words doing most of the heavy lifting as he pulled the blanket off and brought you to sit with his hands supporting your elbows.

you'd been in there a long time, you at least knew that. the water pelting against your back as you stared at your feet, listening to suguru ramble, never letting silence fill up a single crack so you wouldn't feel alone. not even for a second.

you finished somehow, your body feeling lighter as he spoke. his voice smooth and just loud enough to be heard over the splashes of water. like it was a normal conversation he was having over the phone. he sat there as long as you needed him to.

"feels better, doesn't it? we can do this again whenever you need it." he said over the rim of his hot tea, your own hot mug in your hands as you sat at the dinner table waiting to have your first proper meal in weeks. "but if you don't feel up for it you don't have to be ashamed or feel guilty," he murmured in that same silky timbre that went on and on while you were in the shower, planting a soft kiss against your forehead. "this isn't something you have to go through by yourself. i love you just as you are."

A/N : i dunno i just had this scene in my head that i couldn't stop thinking about but also didn't know how to end so honestly i am a little unsatisfied with the ending, but i do hope this gave you some type of solace. you are loved even if your brain makes you feel otherwise <3 i also have a few more depressed reader x jjk men ideas that hopefully get better over time. i think these are the types of fics i wanna put out into the world please bear with me while i learn how to do so <3

geto x reader masterlist

heart chain divider and purple line divider by @/adornedwithlight

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

🤍a completely random modern au headcanon for each aot character 🤍

eren jaeger’s idea of late night fun is going to walmart/target/etc. he likes to walk around with his friends and be absolutely childish. bonus: he’s banned from a certain store for kicking an inflatable ball across the store.

armin arlert is self conscious of his body. it’s only really his torso though. when him and his friends go to the beach, he’s always the last one to take his shirt off. he doesn’t even have anything to be embarrassed about, he’s just disappointed he’s not as muscular as eren or reiner.

mikasa ackerman’s favorite color is a dark red. the blood, cherry type of red. she’s got a lip tint in that color and her nails are painted too much. she also chews her nails. she hopes the nail polish is enough to break the habit but it isn’t.

connie springer’s favorite fast food restaurant is burger king. he thinks it’s underrated. you can count on him to fuck up a whopper. he also always gets the cardboard crowns to wear.

jean kirstein loves night time. he loves the solitude, the way nobody expects anything from him, and the fact that he can just be. he doesn’t get lonely during his late nights but he wouldn’t mind somebody to share it with.

sasha braus smells really good. she doesn’t use any super fancy products, though. she’s just one of those people that naturally have a good aroma. her skin is also really soft.

ymir tans really easy in the summer. she never burns or turns red. she’s genetically blessed. the sun also makes the freckles on her face pop and clusters of them pop up on her back/shoulders.

historia reiss loves milkshakes and soda floats. she always orders them with a whipped cream and cherry. she prefers milkshakes from a diner rather than a fast food place.

marco bodt really likes plants. he has a collection of houseplants. they line his window sills and he even has a special little rack with a special little light. he’s got a super green thumb.

reiner braun drinks protein shakes religiously. he pretty much sticks to a diet of shakes, meat, vegetables and rice. there are few times where he breaks his routine, usually just joining his friends for a night of drinking.

bertholdt hoover has a surprisingly high tolerance when it comes to weed and alcohol. at least that’s what it looks like on the outside. he’s pretty cool, calm and collected. nobody’s sure if he’s immune to being drunk, or if he’s too anxious about acting a fool to show any signs of inebriation.

annie leonhardt owns a german shepherd 100%. she’s had it since it was a pup and it’s one of the most well behaved dogs. they’re oddly similar in their mannerisms. bonus: it’s named marley.

pieck finger is the type of girl to sit on the floor. like, at all times. when she’s sad, she’ll lay down completely and just stare at the ceiling. it’s peaceful and it makes her feel relaxed.

porco galliard goes through an ungodly amount of hairgel. his hair is hard like those ballroom/ballet dancers in competitions. he has trouble growing facial hair.

zeke jaeger gets his weed flown to him from another state/country. it’s the best shit around. he’s also never home because he “runs a business.” always found with a blunt near by.

levi ackerman doesn’t like energy drinks or coffee. if he needs caffeine, he gets it from tea or some kind of health drink. he doesn’t understand how kids hearts don’t give out with all their monsters and red bulls.

erwin smith is so friendly despite his appearance. he finds joy in little things like a heads up penny or when the barista remembers his name/order. he’s a pretty easy going guy.

hange zoe breaks her glasses all the time. they either sit on them or step on them. it’s easy for them to lose their glasses because their room is a mess. books, papers, knick knacks everywhere.

my jean fic